The Chilling Spree (8 page)

“Perhaps they did,” I said.  The notion
that Underwood suffered from a personality disorder wasn’t
something that I was willing to rule out.  Then again, I
handed my case over to Johnny on a silver platter.  Index
fingers dug relentlessly into my temples.

“So he’s some kind of budding Ted
Bundy?”

“One victim, Dev.  I suspect that
Underwood is a hell of a lot older than Bundy was when he started
killing women.  It’s like I said earlier.  Not all
murders come in multiple denominations.  Sometimes a dead body
is a single event.”

“I hope that’s what this one is.”

“We regret my hasty decision, don’t we?”

Devlin chuckled.  “I’ve never known you
to make a hasty decision.  They only seem hasty to those of us
not privy to the internal debate that wages in that big brain of
yours.  And what, pray tell, was this hasty choice you regret
right now?”

“Letting Orion steal our case.”

Devlin signaled on the desolate street and
pulled onto my street.  A few minutes later, while the gate
slowly slid open, he impaled me with a sober stare.  “You were
right about my inability to consider that anybody but Underwood is
the perp, Helen.  Don’t start doubting your instincts
now.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not all of my
silent internal dialogue relates to decisions.  More than a
healthy amount of it is devoted strictly to doubting my
instincts.  I’ve made some seriously poor choices based on my
gut over the years, Devlin.”

The car rolled through the gate and inched
up the driveway.  For the duration, Devlin held his thoughts
in silence.  I was on the cusp of a nervous fidget when the
car stopped.  He jumped out before I could say something truly
regrettable.

Devlin opened the door for me and reached
for my hand.  The second my feet hit the concrete driveway, he
pulled me against his chest.  Large hands anchored my
face.

“Helen, if I thought you were emotionally
free right now…”  His midnight eyes glittered in the
darkness.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t doubt your instincts.  You’re
the only one who does.  I’d follow you into the depths of
hell, no questions asked.”

“Thanks for making my point,” I
muttered.  “That is precisely what put Orion in his current
state of cognitive dysfunction.”

Devlin tilted my face upward.  “Nobody
put a gun to his head.  He could’ve waited for backup. 
You’re right about one thing.  We all know that you tend to
rush headlong into danger, Helen.  Should he have
waited?  God help me, but I don’t think I’d have thought about
more than backing you up either.  His choice, his
responsibility.”

I gripped his wrists.  “Promise me that
if we’re ever in a situation like that, that you’ll wait for
backup, Dev.  I can’t bear more on my conscience.”

His voice sent a jolt of electrical current
through my body.  “How long did it take him to fall in love
with you?”

“Dev –”

“No, Helen, don’t tell me not to feel what
I’ve been feeling almost since the moment I met you.  You
don’t have to worry about pressure or ultimatums from me.  I
think you’re worth all the patience in the world.”

His thumbs caressed my cheeks, while I was
stricken with panic.  What had happened to me?  When had
I transformed from the prickly-don’t-approach cactus to the fragile
crocus that wilts pathetically after dawn?  Marriage to Rick
couldn’t have blinded me to the male species.  Could it? 
No, it had to be some sort of weird flaw of the gender specific to
Darkwater Bay, like the bizarre height they wielded.

“Don’t freak out.”

See what I mean?  I swallowed the
gravel-fist in the back of my throat.  “You’re marching
headlong into dangerous territory.  Maybe
you’re
the
one who should talk to Johnny.  He could warn you of the
dangers of blind infatuation.”

“This isn’t blind.”

“But it is cold out here.”

“Right,” Devlin’s hands dropped to his
sides.  “Guess we should get inside.”

“Despite the murder, personality disorders,
hubris and insults hurled at me tonight, I had a good time,” I
hooked one arm in his and ambled toward the front door.  “Are
you serious about trying this again tomorrow night?”

“Well now, that depends,” he chuckled. 
“If I have to watch every guy in the amphitheater hit on you –”

“Stop,” I laughed.  “One creep, and one
guy who probably hasn’t heard the words
not interested
from
a woman in his adult life hardly count as every guy at the
concert.”

He patted the hand nestled in the crook of
his arm.  “You’re pretty oblivious for a woman trained to
observe human behavior, but oddly enough, I think it’s part of your
charm.  You’re clueless to the effect you have on people, from
those who know you to total strangers.  Or maybe it’s genuine
humility.”

I jabbed the key into the deadbolt on the
front door.  “
Maybe
?”

Warm, wet lips brushed against my
neck.  “Definite humility
and
cluelessness.”

I shoved the front door open and stepped
inside.  Immediately, the intercom at the front gate
chimed. 

“Who on earth could that be at this
hour?”  I depressed the button.  “Who is it?”

“Open the gate, Helen.”

The hairs on my arms rose to
attention.  “Johnny, it’s late, and I’m very tired.  As
you so astutely pointed out, I’ve had a bit to drink tonight, so
I’m probably of zero use to the department.”

“Open the goddamned gate, or I’ll drive
through it!”

Devlin covered my hand with his and
depressed the control.  “Want me to hang around for whatever
it is he’s got to say?”

I chewed the inside of my bottom lip. 
Would a witness make him more belligerent or improve the wrath he
sounded ready to hurl at me again?  “I don’t know what to do,
Devlin.  He’s mad at me no matter what I do it seems.”

“Then I’m not leaving you alone with
him.  It was my case too, besides which, Underpants and I go
way back.”

“Why do you call him that?  He told me
his nickname is Woody.”

Devlin snorted as Johnny’s headlights
illuminated us in the still open doorway.  “Because his name
is Underwood, and the only thing we could count on him for was skid
marks in his drawers.  Woody.  That’s a joke.”

“You realize I’m going to need the full
story on this guy at some point.”

Devlin glanced at Johnny’s charge through
the front courtyard.  “Yet at this exact moment, I think that
tale is gonna have to wait.”

Orion growled, at Devlin not me this
time.  “Make yourself scarce.”

“We’re off duty, Commander Orion. 
Anything you have to say to Helen –”

“Is private.”  He rose and seemed a
foot taller than his normal statuesque six-six.  “I won’t say
it again, Mackenzie.”

“Johnny, if this is about the case, I insist
that Devlin hear it too.  He knows more about Fulk Underwood
than I do.”

He muttered a curse under his breath. 
“Where can we have this conversation?”

“Library?” Dev suggested.

“Living room.  Give me a minute to
change out of these boots.  They’re pinching my feet,” I
said.  Prayer was a fraction of an inch from the tip of my
tongue as Dev led this stranger that used to be someone I knew into
the living room to wait for me.  By the time I returned, Dev
had coffee brewing.  My arms wrapped around my waist in a
defensive gesture.

“We should get one thing out of the way
first,” Johnny began without preamble.  “I owe you an apology
for that ultimatum earlier.”

Devlin’s eyebrows lifted, but he remained
silent.

“It’s all right, Johnny.  You made a
valid point.  Dev and I had been drinking.  We were off
duty, so there certainly wasn’t anything inappropriate about that
in itself, but it didn’t project the right image for the
department.  Darkwater can’t afford even a vague appearance of
impropriety.”

He glanced at Devlin.  “What’s your
take on this Underwood guy?”

“He’s scum,” Devlin said.  “Which I’m
pretty sure Chris already told you.  He could tell you shit
about Underpants that none of his troops were privy to,
commander.”

“Funny,” Johnny said.  “He seems to
think you could tell me things that the officers had no idea Mr.
Underwood had done during his period of enlistment.  I don’t
suppose the two of you would consider sitting down together and
filling in the blanks for me.”

“Sure,” Dev nodded.  “Say when.”

“I’d say now,” color rose in Johnny’s neck,
“but I get the distinct impression that I’m interrupting the rest
of your
date
.”

“Wasn’t that the plan?”

I shot Devlin a glare.  “Johnny, I know
you don’t remember this, but the work has always come before
everything else for me, often to the detriment of my health,
friendships and yes, even personal relationships.  Why did you
want to talk to me tonight?”

Something gazed at me, blank on
recollection, but filled with longing.  “I didn’t get the
chance to ask you what this creep Underwood told you when you
questioned him tonight.”

“I didn’t get far before you arrived and
overheard some of what he said.”

“The part about how he could have you on
your knees in front of him in a matter of minutes if he wanted
you?” Johnny’s snarl left no room for doubt.  The crudeness of
the message pissed him off enough to still eat at him hours
later.  “Yeah, I can’t say it endeared him a whole lot.”

Devlin’s face darkened.

I rolled my eyes at both of their
reactions.  “Basically, I asked if he normally left this
speaker stack thing for Madden’s amplifier upright or side lying as
it was found.  He never really answered my question with more
than sarcasm and ego about his high intellect.”

Devlin snorted again.  “That sounds
about right.  That man had more to say about nothing at all
other than his magnificence since the day I met him.”

“How long ago was that, exactly?” Johnny
asked.

Dev rubbed his chin.  “Well, I enlisted
at eighteen, went through basic… I must’ve been about nineteen
before I landed under Chris in the grand scheme.  A few months
later, Underpants got shuffled through Chris’s command, I suspected
at the time because there was nobody better at finding valid
reasons to get rid of the dead weight.  So, I guess I’ve known
the guy for about 25 years.”

“And you stayed in touch after his
dishonorable discharge?”

“No, but it seemed like one of us, the old
crew I mean, had the misfortune of running into him on a fairly
regular basis over the years.  We do keep in touch.”

Johnny nodded.  “How long were you
enlisted?”

“Six years.”

“And Underwood, how long did he last before
Chris got rid of him?”

“Almost to the end of my tour.  He’s a
slick bastard, commander, and has a definite knack for making his
misdeeds somebody else’s.  Most of his offenses were the petty
variety, but I’m sure Chris already told you about his shenanigans
in the Marines.”

Johnny glanced at me.  “Yeah,” he
said.  “I got an earful.”

“Would you like some coffee, Johnny?” I
asked.

He glanced at his wrist watch, then at
Devlin, followed with a hard stare at the floor.  “I guess it
wouldn’t hurt.  This looks like it might be a long night for
some of us.”

“Dev, could you get some coffee?”

His mouth twisted downward. 
“Sure.  I guess I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Johnny started pacing, trying to control it
as best he could.

“Do you want to sit down?”  I patted
the sofa beside me.

“I should get back to the –”

“Johnny, why did you really come over here
tonight?”

His shoulders, even his spine, seemed to
crumble a little bit.  Our eyes met.  “Winslow.”

“She told you?”

He nodded.  “Doc, are you really ready
to just… move on?  I thought we meant more than that.”

Oh, that.  Damn Maya and her big
mouth.
  “Johnny –”

The posture wilted enough this time that he
slumped onto the sofa.  Why was that?  I’d never seen his
so physically affected by… what?  Hearing his name?

He stared at the floor.  “Did you mean
what you said to me tonight, about why you weren’t there when I
came out from influence of that drug they gave to stop my
seizures?”

“I
was
there, at least until they
told me you were asking for Gwen,” painful memory flooded my cells,
especially those in my eyes and throat.  “I meant what I said
though.  Would it have upset you to have a total stranger
rushing to sit with you when everything you knew about me, about
us, was gone?”

“I won’t lie and say that I remember every
tiny detail.”

“Johnny?”

Our gaze met and held this time.  He
reached for a lock of my hair and rubbed it between thumb and
forefinger.  “This was blonde when we met, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” my tongue felt a foot thick and dry
as a sun-bleached bone.

“And I couldn’t stop thinking about
you.”

“Only you know the answer to that
question.”

The hand fell away, eyes drifted to the
floor again.  “I’m sorry I sounded so combative earlier. 
What I feel every time I see you, it’s pretty intense, Helen, and
very confusing.  In fact, it makes me question my sanity.”

I reached for him, aborted mid way and
settled for twisted fingers in my lap.  “I’m sorry.  I
wish I could help you, but I can’t untangle what you feel.  I
can tell you things, but if you don’t remember them, you won’t
trust what anyone tells you about the memories you lost.”

“That’s the thing,” he said.  “I know
how I feel, but it frustrates me and makes me so angry that I can’t
remember how this happened.  I get pissed off because I don’t
know why every time I see you I feel this… ache.”  One fist
rubbed over his chest.  “Or maybe ache isn’t the right
word.  It’s emptiness and longing and fear and a whole lot of
other things that I’m pretty sure you don’t give a damn to
know.”