“I don’t like it,” Roy said. “You could end up tearing their family apart. I think you should talk to Hugh first.”
“I respect Hugh. I always have. He’s a better man than I am, and gave Janice more than I could,” he finished, the words so damned bitter on his tongue, he poured another Scotch, and took a hard swallow. “Besides, you know as well as I do that Hugh thought Janice was wrong, that Celeste deserved to know the truth.”
“Still,” Roy said. “Well, whatever. You’ll do what you want anyway. You always have.”
He smiled wryly at that, while years of regret ate at his soul. Because he had—and still did—what he wanted, he’d led a very lonely life. “I also think I might be able to give Celeste some insight on her gift.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Fine,” Roy snapped. “I’ll pick you up at seven. But I’ll be there when you meet with her. Understand?”
“I do, and Roy, for whatever it’s worth, thank you for taking care of her.”
“It wasn’t a job, it was a privilege.”
The line disconnected. Roy had hung up on him for the first time in thirty years.
A knock at the door had him straightening. “Yes?”
Rachel Davis poked her head inside his office. “Do you have a sec?”
“Of course.” He poured himself another drink. “Scotch?”
She wrinkled her lightly freckled nose and sat in the chair across from him. Even after sitting behind a desk for more than ten hours, she still looked crisp and professional. Except for the pencil, pitted with teeth marks and tucked behind her ear. “No thanks. The only cocktails I like are sweet, one of the colors of the rainbow and usually garnished with a tiny umbrella.”
“Do you gnaw on those, too?” he asked with a smile, even though his heart tripped at a rapid pace. He’d finally meet Celeste. Tomorrow.
“First John, now you? I’m starting to get a complex,” she said, and removed the pencil from behind her ear.
He raised his glass. “We all have our vices. Now what can I do for you?” he asked and glanced at the clock. He had a lot of things to take care of before he left for Wisconsin, but he’d make time for Rachel. She was one of his favorite finds. Brilliant but quirky, temperamental but reliable, she was concise and direct and helped keep his agency running smoothly.
“I’m leaving for the night,” she said as she leaned forward and placed a folder on his desk. Like every evening, she consolidated a quick recap of what each of his agents were working on, and where they were with their investigations.
“Any progress on Garrett Winston?” Ian hadn’t been surprised that John went straight to Rachel, bypassing him. After all, he hadn’t bothered to return one of John’s calls, not that he hadn’t wanted to talk with him. He’d just been worried his feelings for Celeste would become too obvious, and John was a very perceptive individual. His quick mind would suspect, and he’d begin asking too many questions, questions he was finally willing to answer...but only to Celeste. While he’d made it a goal to know everyone else’s business, his was non-negotiable. He was the boss, the rock of CORE’s foundation, and planned to remain in that position.
“Not much, I spent an hour creating a program to speed the tracking process, and so far it’s working. I checked it about fifteen minutes ago and the codes I’d written have already tracked Winston’s truck routes back five years, along with any unsolved murders bearing Winston’s MO. Unfortunately, the program has matched over two dozen unsolved murders.”
“Unfortunately?”
“Uh-huh, because Winston started driving
fourteen years
ago.” She twined the pencil between her fingers. “While I’m sure not all of these murders will be linked back to him, I have a gut feeling this guy killed a lot of women during his career.”
Based on Roy’s reports, the dozens of unknown female DNA Eau Claire’s CSU had found in Winston’s cab, he did, too. “Did you hear back from St. Cloud?”
“Yes, what their CSU faxed me is in the file.” She nodded to the folder on his desk. “And I’ve already emailed the report to John. To recap, St. Cloud’s CSU examined the refrigerated trailer Winston hauled for Booker Foods and discovered small traces of blood. They’re sending the samples to Eau Claire for comparison on the four women found at the original dump site.”
“Excellent. Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Head home and keep me posted on your tracking progress. I won’t be in the office for a few days, so call me on my cell phone.”
She pursed her lips as she rose from the chair. “I know it’s none of my business, but you weren’t scheduled to go out of town. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. Go get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Have a safe trip,” she said, then closed the door behind her.
The room grew silent again. Contemplating another Scotch, he stared at the empty glass.
Not tonight, he decided. For thirty years he’d been waiting for the moment to come face to face with Celeste. Janice might not have approved, but she was gone. And while so many secrets had died with her, it was time to reveal a few. He only hoped Celeste would accept them...accept him. For who he’d been thirty years ago, and the man he was today.
With a shake of his head, he stowed the Scotch and glass away as the past surfaced with a sucker punch. He was screwed, especially if John discovered he’d been to Wissota Falls. He could lose a good agent, but having this chance with Celeste would be well worth it. He hoped.
And for the first time in years...he prayed.
John walked past the ugly gnomes lining the flowerbeds, and rang the door bell. As he waited, feeling as if someone was watching him, he glanced over his shoulder. A gnome being carried off by a pair of metallic aliens caught his attention. He hadn’t noticed this particular one before, and couldn’t help but smile.
Life with Celeste would be interesting, if he was given that chance. After the investigation ended, he’d try. He wasn’t stupid. Maybe skeptical about relationships considering what had happened with Renee, but not stupid.
Celeste had breathed life into parts of him he hadn’t realized had been dead. He envied how deeply she cared for her family and Roy. He wanted her to care about him just the same if not more. Hell, he wanted her all to himself. Especially after today.
Since dropping her off at the diner, his day had gone to shit and now he needed to talk...to her and her alone. For a reason he couldn’t explain, she soothed him, brought peace to his soul. Tonight, he needed her comfort.
The door opened. In an instant, the victims, Winston, the entire fucked up case, disappeared from his mind.
She stood in the doorway wearing low-cut jeans, and a long-sleeved t-shirt that hugged her breasts and brought the blue out in her eyes. Her curly, blond hair framed her pretty face. The memory of twining his fingers through her hair as he’d made love to her that afternoon had his fingers tingling. Her vanilla and cinnamon scent had his mouth watering for a taste of her smooth skin. He stared at her lush lips, and a hunger that had nothing to do with his empty stomach made him move fast.
Needing to touch her, to erase away everything bad, he dropped his briefcase, kicked the door closed and pinned her against the wall. Unable to stop himself, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her. Kissed her the way he’d been aching to do since he’d left her bedroom this afternoon.
She released a throaty moan and parted her lips. The arousing vibration hummed through his body and straight to his cock. Hard, ready, and aching to bury himself between her thighs, he tangled his tongue with hers, and made love to her mouth.
Gripping the back of his head, she held onto him, surged her body against his. Her response fueled his need. He raised one of her legs around his back, then gripped her rear and ground his dick between her thighs. Dragging his lips along her neck, he pressed a lingering kiss where her pulse beat hard at the hollow of her throat, then snared her gaze.
Her eyes were bright, glittering with both desire and shock. The desire he welcomed, but the shock? He looked to the wall. God, he was a presumptuous ass. While she’d responded the way he’d hoped, the way he’d needed, he might have moved a little too fast. He was sure there had to be some sort of rule out there about when it was appropriate to kiss someone hello, and he was also sure he’d just broken it. Besides, her brother could be in the next room. Distracted by her warm curves and inviting scent, he hadn’t bothered to check.
She placed two fingers on his cheek and forced him to meet her eyes. “What?” she asked.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Kiss me hello?”
“Yeah, with Will in the house—”
“I sent him to his apartment a little while ago. I knew you’d be here soon.” She rubbed her fingers along his jaw, the light, feathery touch arousing. “Why did you really stop?”
“I didn’t just kiss you hello, I was ready to...”
“Fuck me against the wall.”
Her bluntness had him impossibly harder. “You betcha,” he mimicked the accent the locals used with a grin.
Smiling, she brushed her lips against his. “Did I look like I was complaining?”
“No, but—”
“Celeste? I saw headlights,” Will called from the kitchen.
She disentangled their bodies. “John’s here, we’re in the foyer.”
He quickly grabbed his briefcase and hid his arousal as Will approached. Her brother eyed him for a second, then nodded. “Glad you’re here. I didn’t like leaving Celeste alone.”
“Quit worrying.” She took her brother by the elbow and led him back to the kitchen. When she reached the sliding door that led to a pathway to Will’s studio apartment, she stopped. “Get back to work. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Will hesitated and stared him down for a moment. “Call if you need me,” her brother said, then walked toward the garage.
She closed the door, locked the deadbolt, then met his gaze in the reflection of the glass. “Were you planning on going back to the Chippewa Inn tonight?”
“I thought I’d leave that up to you.” His heart raced. He wanted to spend the night with her, needed to. In a matter of days, he swore she’d become the best thing about him. And even if whatever they had ended after the investigation, he wanted to soak up every chance he could with her. Making love, holding her throughout the night...
She swiveled, a big, saucy grin on her face. “Good, let’s get you fed. After this afternoon, and your hello kiss, I’ve got plans for you tonight.” She waggled her brows, walked toward him, then planted a quick kiss on his lips. “Have a seat. How was your day?”
He did, his mind busy, his body still hard and wanting. With Renee, he’d have sex to ease the tension. Afterward, pillow talk involved whatever case they’d been working. Celeste had become his pseudo partner. But the kind of pillow talk he’d have with her would
not
involve the investigation. While he liked the idea of spilling details and bouncing ideas off her, once in the bedroom, whatever happened would only have to do with them.
“Other than making love to you and kissing you in the foyer, terrible.”
She blushed. “It’s nice to be the highlight of someone’s day.” She placed a Styrofoam container on the counter, then dished the chicken marsala onto one of her gnome plates before popping it into the microwave. While his dinner cooked, she went back to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine. “Want some?”
“A beer would be better.”
She gave him one, and when the microwave dinged, pulled the plate out, then set it in front of him. His mouth immediately watered and his stomach grumbled. “If this tastes half as good as it smells...where’s yours?”
“I already ate.” She took a sip of her wine. “Dig in and enjoy.”
He did, and as he ate, he told her about Lauren Sundahl first. “Roy and I went to see her mom, but she wasn’t home. One of Roy’s deputies, Ed Young...”
“I know Ed, he’s a good guy. His wife’s an ER nurse at Eau Claire Hospital.”
“Ed mentioned that. He also said that he’d remembered seeing Lauren—when she was a few years younger—in the ER when he’d stopped by to pick up his wife. Apparently Lauren was a frequent visitor. Either she was exceptionally clumsy or...”
“Her mom beat her,” she finished, rubbing her finger around the rim of the wine glass. “What about...how she was killed. Were you able to tell if two men...” She shivered and looked away.
He pushed his plate aside, then her wine, and reached for her hand. “Carl has made her his first priority. We’ll know something in the morning.”
“And Curtis Hoyt?”
Releasing a deep sigh, he looked to the ceiling. “Carl and Dean are pulling an all-nighter for us. After they’re finished with Lauren Sundahl, they’ll take care of Hoyt. CSU did conclude that there were two sets of fingerprints found on the syringe Winston used against Hoyt, and that it was likely some type of ammonia-based cleaning supply. They also found traces of this same substance in Hoyt’s front pants pocket. They’ll know exactly what was intended to kill Winston once they get the tests back, hopefully tomorrow.”
“You honestly think Curtis tried to kill Winston?” she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I knew him, and his wife. Everybody loved the guy. He was a former cop. I just can’t imagine...”
“It gets worse. Roy and I went to see Mrs. Hoyt after we’d left Lauren Sundahl’s home. CSU met us there, and we searched the house.” Rachel had already run through bank accounts in not only Hoyt’s name, but his wife and children, too. She’d found nothing that would prove someone had bribed him to kill Winston, but they had. “Underneath a floorboard in his bedroom, we discovered an old tackle box, containing ten thousand dollars in small, unmarked bills. Along with the money, we found pictures of Hoyt gambling at a casino, as well as cheating on his wife.”
Her eyes grew even wider. “What are you saying? That he was being blackmailed?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would a blackmailer
pay
Curtis? Wouldn’t the pictures be enough of an incentive?”
“You’d think,” he said with a shrug. “There was also a typed note in the box stating that once ‘the job’ was done, Hoyt would receive another ten grand. Between the money and the note, Roy and I think Winston definitely had a partner.” He leaned back in the chair. “A partner who wants him dead.”
“Based on my last trance, that makes sense.”
“It does, but, no offense, your trances aren’t considered hard evidence.”
“True, but what about Winston’s confession?”
I know something you don’t know.
Winston’s parting words from the night he’d been arrested still taunted him. He’d been coked up that night, based on the urinalysis they’d forced on him. Arrogant and self-assured. Why?
“I’m still not sure, and we might never know. Thanks to the beating he took, Winston’s in a coma.”
“A coma? Oh my God. What did the doctor say? Is there any chance he’ll recover? Not that he deserves to live. I’d rather see him suffer in prison.”
She picked up her wine glass. “Actually, I wish Wisconsin still had the death penalty.”
“Eye for an eye?”
“Oh yeah. Especially when it comes to a monster like him.”
“After what I’ve witnessed over the years, I wholeheartedly agree with you. As for his doctor, he said these next few days will be crucial as to whether or not Winston will survive. He sustained a subdural hematoma.”
“Which is?”
“Bleeding around the brain is the gist of it. Once they drilled a hole in Winston’s head to drain the blood, the doctor said the swelling around the brain should dissipate, but that the coma could linger for days or weeks. And, if Winston does wake up, he might not be...normal.”
“Like he was normal to begin with,” she said, and reached for her wine.
He lifted his beer in a mock toast. “No kidding. I just hope to God he does wake up. If Winston does have a partner, and they’ve been killing women for years, he’ll know everything about the other man. Roy and I never had a chance to interrogate him. Every time we tried, he’d refuse to speak to us.”
“Let’s get back to his partner. Do you think Winston confessed as quick as he did—and I know it sounds like something out of movie—because he and his partner had an escape plan?”
Damn if they weren’t sharing the same thought patterns. “I thought that, too. Only Roy thought it was too Hollywood.”
She rose and picked up his empty plate. “Roy would know. He and Bev watch more movies in a month than I do in an entire year.”
“You don’t like hanging out and watching movies?”
“I do, but there never seems to be any time. But now that I have an assistant manager, I might be able to catch up on the stuff that I’ve recorded on my DVR.”
“They have that kind of technology in this small town?” he teased.
She stuck her tongue out at him, which he knew was meant to be playful. Only he imagined the things she could do with that tongue, those full lips...
“Have you looked into Winston’s past?” she asked as she shut the dishwasher door. “I mean, if he’s been killing women for some time, maybe along his truck routes—”
His chuckle stopped her mid-sentence.
“What?”
“You’d seriously make a good investigator. I’m already on it, which was why I brought my laptop with me.” He explained that Rachel had created a program to match all of Winston’s truck routes to any unsolved murders matching his MO.
“Impressive.” She a raised brow. “How many years back are we talking?”
“Fourteen.”
“Scary.”
“Tell me about it. Rachel has already sent me data spanning the past five years. I need to look at each unsolved murder. Hopefully she’ll have more for me tomorrow. When Winston wakes up, if he wakes up,” he amended. “I want to hit him with everything and anything we’ve got against him to coerce him into giving up his partner.”
She wiped the counter clean. “I told you I’d help. What do you say we get at it?”
Work was the last thing on his mind as he drifted his eyes to her kissable lips. “You don’t have to help, just keep me company.”
“Nope, the sooner we can get this done, the sooner...” She cocked a brow and her mouth curved in a sexy grin.
“You’re sure?”
“I wouldn’t have offered. So where do you want to work? Living room or kitchen?”
He loved her cozy living room, all of the family pictures, the fireplace, the comfy couch. He grabbed his beer and briefcase. “Living room.”
Ninety minutes later, between the two of them, they’d reviewed the two dozen unsolved murders Rachel’s program had matched with Winston’s MO and his truck routes. Fifteen of those murders looked more promising than the rest, which meant he’d be on the phone in the morning calling the homicide detectives who had worked those cases. While time consuming to investigate, those crimes might give him more insight into Winston, and his partner. And if they were lucky, maybe even more evidence, too.