The Broken (The Apostles) (20 page)

She wrapped the thread around her finger. And she’d hop on her bike and…Honestly, she had no idea where she’d go, but for the first time in three years she had freedom to move about without fear. That thought sent a different type of warmth through her body. Instead of heading out on the road right away, maybe she’d go back to Smokey Joe’s cabin and make sure he got set up with a new aide. She’d help him finish all the orders for their jewelry business. She was earning a nice little nest egg that would pay for quite a few tanks of gas. Maybe she’d even see if Smokey wanted to take a trip to Las Vegas to get a new
LOST
MY
ASS
candy dish since she’d broken his old one.

Behind her, in the cottage kitchen, the landline phone rang. Maybe it was Smokey Joe calling to complain about the heat in Tucson or Maeve or both. More likely it was someone from Hayden’s team, or the Dorado Bay Police, or the coroner with word on Jason’s autopsy. She hurried to the phone.

“Agent Hayden Reed, please,” a deep male voice said.

“May I ask who’s calling?”

“Lieutenant Rhodes of the Oakland Police.”

“He’s on another call right—”

“Tell him to get off.”

The tone irked her. Like Smokey, she did not like people telling her what to do. “He can’t—”

“Tell him to get off the damned phone. He’s got another one.”

“Excuse me?”

“Another slaying. The Broadcaster Butcher struck here in Oakland last night.”

That couldn’t be right. Jason’s dead, bloated body had been found at the bottom of the lake. A tremor rocked her spine, and she steadied her hand on the back of a chair. How had he managed to get in one last kill? Did he have a partner? Was a killer’s accomplice still at large? Or was this some kind of copycat?

Holding a pencil so tightly it snapped, she took the lieutenant’s name and number and walked into Hayden’s room. He’d moved to the window overlooking the black night, his phone no longer at his ear. He stood in profile, but she could see something red and hot racing across his face. Had he learned about the Oakland murder?

She joined him at the window and held out the paper. “The Oakland police called. Jason struck again.”

Hayden didn’t look at the paper. Why the hell wasn’t he looking at the paper? Why wasn’t he taking charge and fixing things?

“Hayden, what’s wrong?”

He stretched his neck as if trying to make the words flow. “Autopsy protocols show Jason’s body was in that lake ten to fourteen days.”

The paper slipped from her hand. “But Shayna Thomas was killed on Monday, six days ago, and there’s the Oakland broadcaster who was killed last night.”

Hayden rested both palms on the windowsill. “Jason didn’t kill Shayna Thomas or the broadcaster in Oakland. Jason Erickson is not the Butcher.” His words shot out fiery hot in the already warm room. “Jason was stabbed with an eight-inch, double-edged knife at the back of his head. Two subsequent stab wounds to main arteries bled him to death. Not only is he not the Butcher, he was killed by the Butcher.”

A glacial cold, like the waters of the lake outside her window, washed over her. “The Butcher’s still on the loose.”

“And he won’t stop until he—”

As Hayden’s voice broke off, something hovered at the far edges of her mind. For nearly a week she’d lived and breathed this case with Hayden, who now stood before her, his face twisted in anger and something more unsettling: fear.

“Kills me,” she said with a gasp. “He has to break all the mirrors. He has to finish the job.” Her finger slid along the scar on her neck to the scar on her breast. “I’m the job he never finished. He has to kill me.”

Hayden didn’t argue. He couldn’t. He intimately knew the Butcher.

Adrenaline shot through her legs. After a few hours of precious peace, it was time to head back to the shadowy back roads where the Butcher couldn’t find her.

Before she could make a run for the door, Hayden reached for her.

Her feet tensed. Her hands fisted. Ready to fight. Ready to flee.

She expected the jingle of cuffs. Instead, skin brushed against skin as he slipped his arms around her. Every muscle in her body tightened. It would be so easy to smack away his arms, to head-butt him in the chin, to duck and run. She pulled back her arm.

His lips brushed against the top of her head, and his arms dropped to his side.

The unexpected freedom left her off balance. She grabbed the bedpost. This was one of his head games. He was giving her a choice, giving her power. Right now she could walk away, duck into the shadows.

She shifted from one bare foot to the other. But that wouldn’t stop the Butcher. He would continue to kill, continue to hunt for her because she was the one who got away.

She took a single step, not toward the door but toward Hayden, and rested her cheek against the crisp coolness of his shirt, his heart beating calm and steady.

Click.
His arms locked about her. Then came his words, delivered with a heat that surprised her. “This is one job he’s not going to finish.”

Chapter Thirteen

Sunday, June 14, 7:45 a.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada

H
ayden gave the fan blade a spin. It whirred smoothly, silently, just the way it should. He fastened the mesh frame in place and double-checked the clamps, making sure the blades were covered. Everything safe.

Unlike Kate.

Metal clanked as he threw a screwdriver and pliers into the tool box. Jason Erickson had been found at the bottom of the lake, and the Butcher was still on the loose. And when—not if—he found out Kate was still alive, he’d go after her because his meticulous method of madness demanded he finish the job.

And to the Butcher, Kate was just a job.

Hayden slammed shut the tool box lid. Now he had two lives on the line, including the woman who had the power to wrench his mind from
his
job.

“Evie and Hatch just drove up with Chief Greenfield right behind.” She handed him a cup of coffee, their fingers brushing. Heat that had nothing to do with the steaming brew flooded his arm.

He plugged in the fan, an arc of cool wind sweeping over his skin as Kate set down her own coffee cup with a rattle. She’d been rattled all morning, casting glances out the window and checking door and window locks. But he expected that from a woman who knew a serial killer was gunning for her. Which is why Hayden needed to focus on the job, and only the
job
.

When his teammates and the team from the Dorado Bay PD arrived, he dove in because the only surefire way to keep Kate safe was to catch the killer. “Jason is key,” Hayden said. “He’s not the Butcher, but he knew the Butcher and is somehow involved in the attacks. We find out more about Jason, we get one step closer to the Butcher.”

“Tell us about our boy.” Evie threaded her fingers together and cracked her knuckles, as if getting ready for a fight.

“Jason was raised by a mentally ill, abusive mother who showered him with warped love and despised Kate. Jason, on the other hand, adored his feisty older sister. Over the years, Jason’s mother descended further into ill health, both physically and mentally. Throughout all this, Jason tried to create order and peace in his family home and his world. In the end, he failed. Even his attack on Kate was a failure.”

“You still believe Jason attacked Kate?” Greenfield asked.

“Absolutely,” Kate said, her jaw raising more than a fraction. “I saw the scar. I saw his eyes.”

Hayden nodded. “The facts support her. Obedient and subservient to a fault, Jason attacked Kate three years ago, but he did it on someone else’s orders, the Butcher’s. Jason, who genuinely cared for Kate, hated himself for the attack, and he couldn’t stand to see himself after he stabbed her, so he broke the mirrors. He also folded her hands to try to make peace. Finally, he left the crime scene free of traceable evidence because he was a meticulous sort.”

“That makes sense,” Hatch said. “But why did the Butcher order the attack on Kate in the first place?”

“If we knew that, we’d probably know our Butcher,” Hayden said. “One of the things we’ll be working on over the next few days is finding out who wanted Kate dead three years ago, because that same person went on to kill the seven other broadcasters using Jason’s MO.”

“But why did he kill the other broadcasters?” Kate asked with audible frustration.

“Two possible scenarios. One, the Butcher’s a sociopath and has a fixation with female broadcasters. But I’m leaning toward number two. In this scenario, he killed the other broadcasters to flush you out. He figured once you made the connection between your attack and their deaths, you’d come out of hiding. Your strong sense of justice would demand it.”

Kate rubbed at her temples. “It’s so complex.”

“Serial murders with this degree of success usually are,” Hayden added. “The Butcher thought of everything. He killed the broadcasters, but he staged them in a way to make it look like Jason executed the kills. He meticulously thought out every detail. The Butcher planned the killings around Jason’s work schedule. He followed the same MO, including the mirrors. But he missed one thing that makes me certain a different individual killed the other broadcasters.”

“The knife,” Evie said.

Hayden nodded. “The seven broadcasters received a single immobilizing stab wound to the neck followed by two stabs to maximize blood loss, and so did Jason. Kate didn’t.”

Kate ground her fist into the center of her forehead as if her head ached. “But why did he start up after two and a half years of doing nothing?”

While he’d been working on the fan, Hayden asked himself the same thing. “Perhaps he’s been incapacitated for the past two years, possibly with an illness or some kind of physical restraint, like prison. Or it’s possible something happened in January that escalated his fear of you. The Butcher
needs
you dead, and something triggered that in January.”

“Maybe he needs to get me. Maybe we need to go fishing for him, and I’ll be the bait.”

“No.”

She jumped to her feet. “Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m in charge of this investigation, and I said no.” He pointed to her chair and waited for her to take a seat.

“Well Mr. In-Charge, you’re doing a piss-poor job because seven women have died under your watch.”

The words cut through his chest like a double-edged knife. But they were true. This was his watch, and the Butcher was still on the streets. He straightened his cuffs and looked Kate squarely in the eye. “And you won’t be number eight.”

Evie hopped up from her chair and started to pace. “Hold on,
amigo
. Kate’s on to something.”

Kate took a seat on the sofa next to him and placed her hand on his knee. “You said it yourself, Hayden. It’s me he wants. The killings started because of me, and they can end because of me. If we let him know where I’m at, he’ll come.”

He pictured Kate’s hand, bloody and resting on her lifeless chest, and swallowed. “No.”

“Why not?” Chief Greenfield asked. “Her brother and mother are dead. It would make sense for her to come back home, and we can make sure people know about it.”

“You’ll control the situation.” Kate’s hand pressed into his thigh. “I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“I said no.”

“Think this through, Professor. Really think.” Hatch leaned back in his chair and crossed his ankles. “You’ve been hunting this beast for months. Maybe Kate’s right. Maybe it’s time to stop hunting and go fishing. We could make the whole thing very public, have a big press conference, and get her image on television screens across the country.”

Hayden didn’t want Kate out in the open. He wanted to keep blood off those hands.

Evie popped him on the back of the head. “Where’s that big brain you’re supposed to have? We’re talking pure logic here. The fastest way to catch the Butcher is to dangle bait he can’t resist.”

Kate folded her hands in her lap. “Which would be me.”

Every person in the room drilled him with a hard gaze, dared him to say they were wrong. He couldn’t. This thing had started with Kate and could very well end with her. She’d already pointed out the chilling number: seven deaths on his watch.

“We’re talking a press conference, Kate,” Hayden said. “Hundreds of people and cameras and questions. Everyone focused on you.” He forced out the words he didn’t want to say. “Are you sure?”

“Damned straight I am.”

In that moment, he saw the woman who’d stood in front of the camera for those “Justice for All” reports.

“What do you need me to do?” Kate asked.

Stay safe
, he wanted to say.
And stay in my arms.
Instead he took out his computer and started to plan a fishing trip.

*  *  *

Sunday, June 14, 12:30 p.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada

“I like it better without the scarf.”

Kate’s fingers stilled at her neck, where she’d been fluffing the green silk, her gaze meeting Hayden’s in the bathroom mirror.

“I like it better
with
the scarf.” She yanked the fabric, making sure the knot was secure.

He walked in, and the little bathroom closed in on her. Right now the entire world felt like it was closing in on her because in less than an hour, she’d be facing the world for the first time in three years. Scars and all. She pulled in a deep breath.

Cinnamon.

Hayden was here, rock solid and at her side. She wouldn’t have agreed to the press conference otherwise. She broke her gaze with him and fanned out the edges of the scarf. But that didn’t mean she liked the idea of bearing her scars for all the world to see.

His hands slid along her shoulders, his touch lighter than the gauzy silk. “You have a beautiful neck.” His fingers loosened the knot. How could such a big man have such a light touch? She’d felt it hours ago in that single kiss stolen in a moment of peace. The silk swished to the floor.

“Look.” His insistent fingers tilted her face toward her reflection. “You can barely see them.”

She forced her gaze to the scars that crisscrossed the right side of her neck and cringed. “I do.”