Authors: Allison Brennan
The house was dark and there were no cars in the driveway.
“What about Brandon Burns?”
“I’m waiting for a call back to see if there is another licensed driver at this address,” Carina said. “The registration database is separate from the licensed driver database.”
A sense of déjà vu filled Nick. The last time he’d gone up to a house where he hadn’t expected to find anything, he’d been attacked. He glanced at Carina, fearing he was growing paranoid. She looked alert, but calm. The events last year might be clouding his judgment, and he didn’t want to make another mistake. The thought of risking Carina’s life through his missteps was foolish, he knew: she was a trained cop, she knew what she was doing. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go wrong.
They approached the house cautiously. Carina knocked on the door, then took a step back. No movement in the house. No sound whatsoever.
“Let’s talk to the neighbors,” Carina said finally. “Maybe someone knows when Regina Burns is expected home, or something about her kids.”
The house to the right of the Burns residence was brightly lit, the television loud enough to wake the dead. Carina rapped loudly on the door. No answer. She peered through the window, then used the doorbell multiple times.
A full minute later, the television went from ear-shattering to loud, and the door flew open. Instinctively, Nick’s hand rested on his gun. Towering over both of them was a sixty-something bald man with a large beer belly, to match his breath.
“What?”
Carina identified herself and Nick, learned the neighbor was Ray Grimski, then asked, “We’re looking for Regina Burns, your neighbor.”
The man narrowed his eyes, took a step out onto the small porch, shaking his head. “Don’t know where that bitch is. Probably working.”
“When was the last time you saw Mrs. Burns?”
He shrugged. “Whenever. Last week, maybe. I don’t know. She left Friday or Saturday. She works for a cruise line. Don’t know what she does for them and I don’t care. But she’s gone a week or more at a time, which is fine by me.”
“You don’t get along with her?”
“Hell no.”
“How long have you been neighbors?”
“Ever since she moved in six or seven years ago. Old-man Krauss croaked and his kids put the old woman in a nursing home, sold the house, and split the money, the fucking brats. She died there, don’t think those girls ever even visited.”
Carina and Nick glanced at each other. Sometimes, values weren’t evidenced by appearance.
“What about Regina Burns’s sons?”
“Sons? Oh, right, she has an older son. Don’t know his name. He goes to that college on the coast, I think. Works at a restaurant. Temper. Never comes by when she’s around. Sometimes he comes over to pick up the kid, Brandon. Last time I saw him with his mother was over a year ago. Maybe longer. They got in a huge shouting match. Thought he’d strangle her. The kid came out, everything sort of stopped, and the older kid took off.”
“Do you remember what the argument was about?”
Grimski shrugged, scratched his hefty stomach. “That was ages ago. But that woman has a temper, too.”
“Does she abuse her son?”
“Don’t know. Never saw anything like that.”
“You talk a lot to the younger boy? Brandon?”
“I hired him to fix my back fence. He’s pretty handy. I’ve paid him for odd jobs, though he doesn’t seem to have time anymore. He took a regular job working for his brother. Why? He’s not in trouble, is he?”
“Not that we know of,” Carina said carefully.
“Then why all the questions?”
“He worked with a woman who was recently murdered. We’re talking to all of her colleagues.”
Grimski frowned. “Brandon’s a good kid. A little weird, but with that bitch for a mother who wouldn’t be?”
“Weird how?”
“I dunno. When my son was in high school, this place was Grand-fucking-Central. I was glad. It kept him out of trouble if he brought his friends here. But no one visits next door. The bitch probably doesn’t allow it.”
“Have you ever seen Mrs. Burns’s husband?”
“Husband? Someone married her?” He barked out a laugh. “Never seen anyone else around. I can’t blame the guy for leaving that woman. I almost sold the house a year after they moved in, but the market wasn’t hot enough, and where would I go? I’ve been here forty years, since my wife and I bought the place, rest her soul.”
“What happened that prompted you to consider moving?”
Grimski’s face grew hard, though his eyes started to water. “My Peg was a sweetheart. She died two years ago this May, of cancer. But this was when she was still healthy. She was beautiful. Fifty-five years old and still looked terrific in a bikini.” He grew wistful for a moment, then scowled. “My Peg was sun-bathing in our backyard. Our property! In a bikini. That bitch next door yelled at her over the fence. Called her a whore and a slut and a slew of other indecent words. Peg tried to laugh it off, but she never went outside in a bikini again.”
Carina thanked Grimski. She and Nick went back to the car, but didn’t get in.
“What do you think?” she asked Nick.
Nick could too easily picture Mrs. Regina Burns and the sad homelife Kyle and Brandon Burns must have had. And, unfortunately, he could picture either of them as killers. Kyle with his anger problems; Brandon, an antisocial kid living under the overpowering presence of a woman who hated other women.
“I think we need to have another talk with Kyle Burns,” he said. “And Brandon Burns as well. Maybe watch their dynamic together.”
“We have two suspects.”
“They could be working together. A teenager might be susceptible to the influence of an older, forceful brother, especially since his father is out of the picture.”
“Or maybe the father came back, instigated the murders.” But even as Carina said it, it didn’t feel right. Rapists often escalate to murder, but she didn’t think they’d be dormant for eight years. “We need to check unsolved rapes cross-country,” Carina said. She almost laughed. There were likely thousands of such cases. “We were only looking into rape-murders.”
“But if Mitchell Burns was continuing his pattern, he may not have killed.”
“Before now.” She frowned. “Except we have no evidence that Mitchell Burns is in San Diego.”
In the car, Carina called the officers she had tailing Kyle Burns.
“Where’s Burns?”
“He went home with a waitress from the Shack.”
Carina tensed. “Did she look like she was in any distress?”
“No, but we’re sitting outside her apartment now.”
“Stay there. Watch his car. Don’t let him leave. I’m on my way.”
Then she called for backup.
When they arrived, Carina talked to the officers sitting outside the woman’s apartment.
“Where’s the suspect?”
“Still inside.”
“Do we have an ID on the woman?”
He nodded, flipped open his notepad. “Maggie Peterson, twenty-two, senior at the university and has worked for the Sand Shack for the last year.”
“Good stuff.”
“I went to talk to the manager. She lives with her younger sister, Leah Peterson, nineteen.”
“Do you know if she’s home?”
“No confirmation either way.”
Carina told her backup that there was one, possibly two potential hostages inside the apartment. “We’ll try to do this the easy way. Knock on the door and ask Kyle Burns to come down to the station for questioning.” She turned to Nick. “We should have done it earlier.”
“We didn’t have enough earlier. We need a warrant.”
“I know,” said Carina. “I’m going to try to convince him to come down and answer questions. We might be able to get his DNA that way.” There was a trick often used by law enforcement. If a suspect took a drink from the police and left the drinking container behind, they could collect it as evidence and have it DNA tested. Same principle if the suspect smoked and tossed his cigarette butt on the street. Evidence.
But if Burns didn’t voluntarily come down to the station they had no reason to hold him. They had no DNA to compare to the DNA found on Becca. And without evidence, they couldn’t get his DNA.
She looked at Nick. “Ready?”
Nick should have said no. They had been going all day and his knees were on the verge of giving out. But he’d popped extra ibuprofen and no longer felt the intense pain.
“Ready,” he said.
Maggie Peterson lived on the second floor of the four-story apartment structure. Carina directed two officers to stay with Burns’s car, and two to stake out the back and front entrance of the building. Carina rapped on the door.
No answer.
She knocked again. “Maggie Peterson? Detective Carina Kincaid with the San Diego Police Department. I need to talk to you again.”
She heard something in the back of the apartment, then nothing. She was considering ramming the door when she heard the rattle of the security chain sliding open.
“What’s wrong?” the woman asked. She was dressed in a robe.
“We’re looking for Kyle Burns.”
“Kyle? Why?”
“We know he’s here. We’d like to talk to him.”
The bedroom door opened and Kyle Burns walked out, buttoning his shirt, his face a hard mask. “I can’t believe you followed me here.”
“We have some more questions for you, Mr. Burns.”
“It’s nearly midnight. This can’t wait?”
“No, it really can’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Carina tamped down her own anger. It wouldn’t do her any good dealing with Burns. “Maybe you’d like to come down to the police station with us.”
“Are you arresting me?”
“No.”
“Then ask your questions here.” Kyle reached over and took Maggie’s hand.
Carina had hoped that Burns wouldn’t want to answer questions around his girlfriend, that he’d voluntarily come to the police station.
“Tell us about your father,” Nick said.
“Hell, no. I’m not talking about him. He’s long gone.”
Just the mention of Mitch Burns set Kyle off.
“It sounds like you don’t like him much.”
“Are you insane? Who would like him? The man was a bastard.”
“What was it like growing up with him? Did you know he was a rapist when you were younger?”
“What are you, a shrink?”
Kyle’s rage was building. Carina wondered if someone who had so little control over their temper could plan and execute such a meticulous crime.
The killer is immature.
Carina remembered Dillon’s profile, and lack of temper control was a sign of immaturity. She just needed to play it all the way through. Make him lose his temper and tell her the truth.
“Would you like to talk to a psychiatrist?” she asked.
He didn’t say anything. He stared straight ahead, not looking at Nick or Carina.
Nick took over. “I understand exactly how you feel, Kyle,” he said.
“Bullshit,” Kyle muttered without looking at him.
“You hate your father for what he did. To your family, to you, to those women. And when you were just a kid, you couldn’t do anything about it. The anger and humiliation.”
Kyle didn’t talk.
“You probably wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” Nick said softly.
Something in Kyle’s eyes flickered.
Carina watched Kyle closely as Nick continued the questioning.
“The trial humiliated you, but your father was in prison. Away. Your mother lied, right? You told us earlier that she’d lied to give him an alibi. Yet you still had to live with her. That must have been Hell.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Kyle said, looking at his hands.
“You wanted to protect your little brother, didn’t you? He was just a little guy, what, five years old? He didn’t know what was going on, and you didn’t want him to find out. So you took everything on your shoulders, tried to protect him.”
“You don’t know anything,” Kyle said.
“I know that you were angry when your father went to prison and were still angry when he got out of prison.”
“He should have been put away for life.”
“You’re right.” Nick paused, then asked, “Has he contacted you since he disappeared that night?”
Kyle shook his head.
“What about your mother? Your brother?”
“No! You don’t get it. He’s never coming back!”
“Why?” Nick quietly asked.
“He’s just not,” said Kyle.
Maggie spoke up for the first time, putting her arms around Kyle. “Why all these questions? Just because you can’t find out who killed Angie you’re coming after Kyle?” She stood straight and looked Carina in the eye. “Kyle was with me all last weekend, from when our shift ended at eleven Saturday night until we went to classes Monday morning at eight.”
Burns wasn’t talking anymore, so they left the apartment. Carina said to Nick, “Do you think she’s lying.”
“Maybe,” Nick said.
“Her alibi for Burns is too convenient.”
“I agree, but that doesn’t mean she’s lying. We never asked Kyle Burns for an alibi before.”
“Kyle’s reaction to his father is plain weird. Something’s going on there.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s after midnight. No way we can do anything more tonight.”
“Stop beating yourself up. We’ve done all we can.”
“Have we?” Carina rubbed her eyes and suppressed a yawn. “We’re close, but our hands are tied. No evidence, no arrest.”
“Do you want me to drive back?” Nick asked.
“Actually, that’d be great.”
TWENTY
-
NINE
N
ICK PULLED INTO
C
ARINA’S DRIVEWAY
and turned off the engine. She’d fallen asleep, her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her, his heart doing a little leap as he realized she’d become so important to him in such a short time.
For years, he’d believed Miranda was the only woman for him. Though they’d split up several years ago, in the back of his mind Nick had thought he’d never find another woman who had that special spark, that indefinable something, that appealed to him.
He was wrong. Watching Carina sleep, Nick felt as if he’d known her his entire life.
“Wake up, princess,” he said quietly.
“Hmmm?” She sat up slowly, stretched. “We’re here already?”
“You fell asleep.”
“Did not.” She grinned at him. “Maybe for a minute. Why don’t you come in?”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
She didn’t miss his meaning. Leaning over, she kissed him lightly on the lips. “Did you dream of me last night?”
He took her face in his hands. “Last night and all day.”
Her lips parted and he kissed her, the playfulness leaving as he sank into her warm mouth. His hands spread on the back of her head, holding her to him, their kiss deepening until he found himself pushing her back into the seat.
He pulled back. Her eyes were closed, a smile on her lips. “You can kiss me anytime,” she said, her voice low and sultry.
“I hope to do more than kiss you.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Come with me.”
She jumped out of the car. Nick followed, slower. His knees weren’t as bad as the other day, but he wouldn’t be running any marathons.
She stopped at her door, frowned at him. “Are you okay?”
“I will be.”
“I have something for you.”
He grinned. “That’s what I was hoping for.”
She laughed. A warm, deep, infectious rumble that warmed his blood.
“Well, I was thinking of something for your joints.”
“I don’t want to think about them.” He made it up the three steps to her porch without falling. “I just want to lie down.” He touched her face again. He couldn’t
not
touch her. “In your bed.”
Her eyes darkened and she didn’t move. “Who’s seducing who?” she asked quietly.
“Does it matter?” he asked.
She shook her head, took his hand, and led him inside. He put his hat on the small entry table and pulled her into his arms.
“Hold that thought,” she said and reached into her purse. She held up a small bottle of what looked like lotion. “How would you like a massage?”
He swallowed. It was her tone more than the words that turned him on. “Can I be naked?” he asked.
Carina licked her lips. “That’s a requirement.”
She took his hand and led him down the short hall to her bedroom. She couldn’t help but smile, seeing the big cowboy standing in the middle of her ultra-feminine bedroom.
“Wait here,” she said suddenly and ran down the hall.
Nick looked around the bedroom. It was mostly white, a little frilly. And there was a worn, stuffed bear against the multitude of colorful throw pillows against the distressed white iron headboard. Three true crime books sat on her nightstand, which fit what he knew of Carina more than the rest of her house. He was still trying to reconcile the fluffy room with Carina’s lean and sexy exterior when she popped back into the room with his hat.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Me,” she said with a smile.
“Carina, are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She turned off the overhead light, leaving on a small table light next to her bed. “Take off your pants.”
He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Isn’t that kind of forward, ma’am?”
“Do you want that massage?”
“I might even want more, ma’am,” Nick drawled.
“That little catnap in the car gave me my second wind,” she said. “I’m wide awake.”
“So am I.” He dropped his pants.
“Lie down.”
“You’re getting kind of demanding,” Nick teased.
“What, you don’t like strong women?”
“Strong women are the only kind I like.” He lay down.
Carina took the bottle of lotion and started working on his calves. “I have a confession.”
“Anything.”
“Dillon gave me this lotion. It’s really an ointment for your joints. I hope you don’t mind.”
It surprised Nick that he didn’t mind. In fact, the ointment plus Carina’s strong hands were doing wonders for his muscles and his libido.
“Thank you for caring.”
“I hated seeing you in pain.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You hid it well. But . . . ” Carina didn’t finish her sentence.
By the time she reached his thighs, Nick was entirely turned on. Her fingers, her warm breath on his bare legs, her occasional kiss on his thigh . . . it was unexpected, but definitely wanted.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice heavy.
“Incredible,” he sighed.
She stood up and looked into his eyes. She took off her blazer, then her shoulder holster, putting her gun on her nightstand. She pulled her T-shirt over her head, revealing an incredibly sexy lace bra barely restraining her full breasts. He swallowed.
“Your bra’s red,” he said, his voice husky.
“You like red bras?”
“I sure do now.” He couldn’t help but smile. Carina’s confidence was as sexy as her bra.
She smiled back, slowly unzipping and sliding out of her jeans. Her panties matched her bra. What little of them there were. His mouth went dry.
She turned around slowly, revealing a perfect heart-shaped ass, before facing him again.
Nick couldn’t remember a time when a woman tried to seduce him. Not a woman he wanted. And he wanted
this
woman now.
She leaned over him and kissed him full and hard on the mouth. His hand went up to hold her face to his, but he didn’t have to worry about her getting away. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and that knowledge made Nick feel heady and turned on all at once.
He pulled her into his lap, and she straddled him, her barely clothed body rubbing against his hard dick. He held her close, tight, his hands finding her hair, so soft, so silky. He kissed her jawline, her neck, breathed in the floral scent of her dark, luscious hair. Breathed into her ear, and felt her shiver in his arms.
“Nick,” she whispered, her voice husky, sexy.
He laid her down on the bed, his body half on top of hers, his hands unable to stop touching her, every inch of her tan skin. He could have easily made love to her right then, but he wanted to wait, prolong the pleasure of discovery, the increasing spiral of tension building in both their bodies.
Carina’s arms wrapped around his neck, her hands trailing up and down his back. Squeezing, massaging, holding on to him. Her quiet moans spurred him on, telling him where she liked to be touched, how she liked to be kissed. She was giving herself so freely, without reservation, without holding anything back, that Nick fell half in love with her right then.
He’d never had a woman give herself to him so enthusiastically, so fully.
Carina sighed as Nick kissed every inch of her neck, not leaving one spot unloved. Her ears . . . since when had her ears become such an erogenous zone? His tongue licked one lobe and she gasped.
“Nick,” Carina murmured, her hands running up and down his lean, rock-hard body. She’d never felt small and petite before, but in Nick’s arms she felt protected and desired. Feminine, all woman.
His mouth skimmed along her chest, heading toward the right place, but slowly, much too slowly. She arched her back, egging him on. His tongue played with her breast along the edge of her bra, darting in and out, mimicking a French kiss.
She reached down and grabbed his T-shirt in her hands. “Off,” she ordered.
Nick leaned up and she pulled the shirt roughly over his head. He then lay back on top of her, his chest hot against her skin. His mouth found hers as his hands reached under her bra and rubbed both her breasts simultaneously. She wriggled beneath him, trying to find relief, but only increasing her desire for him.
“Take it off,” she said, passively waiting, and Nick removed her bra.
He looked down at her in the dim light, his face mirroring her desire. “You’re so beautiful, Cara.” He kissed her softly, gently. But she didn’t want soft and gentle. She wanted to make love now, hot and furious. She pushed down his boxers as far as she could, and he removed them the rest of the way.
“Is your knee okay?” she asked quietly, not wanting to break the mood, but not wanting to hurt him, either.
“What knee?” he said and kissed her again.
“Make love to me, Nick.
Now.
”
He slid his mouth down her body until his teeth grabbed her thong. He pulled it down her legs. Her body quivered in anticipation. He kissed her toes and she moaned. Everywhere he touched ignited her nerves, sending bolts of electricity through her body, pooling in the one place he had yet to touch . . .
Seeing Carina’s naked body on the bed next to him was enough for Nick. He could now die happy. Her chest rose and fell, her body shivering with anticipation. Every touch brought a reaction, every breath on her skin raised a moan from her throat. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and her willingness to give herself over to him freely, happily, wantonly, brought him intense joy and deep arousal.
Slowly, he spread her legs. Touched her wetness and she shook beneath his fingers. He laid fully on top of her and she opened her eyes and smiled so seductively that he couldn’t help but stare at her beauty.
“Here.” She reached over the side of the bed, picked up his hat, and placed it on his head.
“I thought that was for you,” he whispered.
“It is, Nick, all for me.” She didn’t close her eyes; they stayed locked on to his. “I’m more than ready for you, cowboy.”
He entered her slowly, slow to keep control, slow to give her as much pleasure as possible before he completely lost it. Her eyes drooped, but didn’t close, never left his gaze.
“Cara,” he whispered onto her lips. He kissed her lightly, trying to hold himself under control.
She arched beneath him, sheathing herself fully onto him, startling both of them. Her eyes wide and full of lust and affection, she moved to a tempo that pleased her, and Nick joined, his hands finding hers and holding tight.
Their rhythm quickened together, faster and harder, sweat covering Nick’s body as he held himself back without giving up the fierceness of their lovemaking. He almost couldn’t watch Carina, the deep pleasure infused in her expression almost setting him off. Then her eyes fluttered closed and she gasped, a high-pitched feminine and almost feline purr. Nick let himself go with a growl of his own, and they rocked together, hot, sweaty, and completely satiated.
Carina had never been so swept away by desire. She held on to Nick, catching her breath. He kissed her neck, found her lips.
“Carina, that was . . . ” he sighed.
“Me too.”
“You like the hat?”
She smiled. “Very much.”
“I want you to wear it next time.” He looked down at her, his expression serious but his eyes sparkling.
She took the hat off his head, pushed him to the side, and put the hat on her own head.
“Okay,” she said and kissed him hard and long, until they were both breathless again. “If you insist.”
When he figured out that an unmarked police car was watching Maggie’s apartment, he got worried.
Very
worried.
Then he realized they didn’t have anything on him. If the police
knew
he’d killed Angie and the others, they would have arrested him. That knowledge gave him confidence.
He drove right on past the car without another thought.
Besides, he didn’t want to kill Maggie. Not yet, anyway. It was her younger sister, Leah, who reminded him of Becca. Her smile, her soft dark hair, her translucent skin. If he wanted to feel the intensity he had with Becca, he had to find another woman like Becca. That’s where he’d gone wrong. Jodi was like Angie, and while at the beginning it was good, it ended all wrong.
But Becca had been perfect, from beginning to end.
And Leah would be, too.
He waited outside her boyfriend’s apartment and frowned. The windows were dark. What were they doing in there? Why wasn’t Leah going home? Her car was out front, right there on the street. She should be leaving. Going home. Not staying here with
him.
The idea that Leah was having sex with another man greatly disturbed him. That put her right there with Angie and Jodi, a slut.
He wanted, needed, Leah to be pure. She looked innocent, acted sweet.
Women are liars.
He stared at the window, pictured Leah spreading her legs for a man. Imagined her asking him to fuck her,
liking
it, wanting it, just like a common whore.
Had she slept with other men? Did she have boyfriends all over town, just like Angie? Maybe she posted pictures of herself online for every man to see, to jerk off to, to lust after.
It was her fault. She deserved everything he was going to do to her.
And more.
Three in the morning. She didn’t come out of the apartment. His hand clutched the door handle.
Wait,
his inner voice commanded.
He didn’t know if he could wait for her to come out on her own. He didn’t know if he
wanted
to wait. But he didn’t know the layout of the apartment, how to get in, how to dispose of her boyfriend.
He wanted to kill the bastard for fucking Leah. That’s exactly what they were doing. It was three-oh-six in the morning. What else could they be doing? Watching cartoons?
So he waited. And watched.
Leah Peterson would eventually leave. And then she would be his.