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Authors: Kylie Brant

Tags: #Romance, #Suspense, #Contemporary, #Thriller, #Fiction

Touching Evil (16 page)

BOOK: Touching Evil
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He stripped off his shirt and turned on the lamp at the bedside.  Then crossed to flip off the overhead light.  When the mattress gave beneath his weight, she felt a flare of panic that had nothing to do with the flashback.  And everything to do with another sort of weakness, this one caused by his presence.

Cam crowded her on the bed.  Fitted himself to her backside so they were spooned together in a way that was all too familiar.  “Thing I wanted to ask you,” he said, the low rumble of his voice soothing in the shadows, “I’ve been thinking about getting a dog.”

“A…”  The non sequitur was almost successful as a diversion.  “That is so not what you came here to talk about.”

“Sure it is.”  He stretched his legs along hers.  “I need help selecting a breed, though.  Remember when you dragged me to the shelter that day?  We saw a lot of dogs there.  Which one did you like best?”

“Um-m…”  A fraction of the tension seeped from her limbs as she thought about it.    “It’d be hard to say.  One that doesn’t shed much.”

She felt his smile against her hair.  “Of course.”

“And one that’s friendly.  Likes exercise, because you’d want one that could run with you.”

“Again, you know me too well.  So we can cross off the wimpy little yappy dogs.  I think we’re on a roll.”

Her heart began to slow to a steadier beat.  And Sophia knew the current molten pulsing in her veins had more to do with the man holding her close than the earlier panic-fueled fear that had ambushed her.  Both were a type of weakness.  But the long hours she’d spent as Vance’s captive had resulted in a jarring shift to her earlier priorities.  And she was no longer going to beat herself up for being weak with Cam Prescott.

She let her body soften against his.  “Livvie mentioned Portuguese Water Spaniels as active dogs that don’t shed.  But I don’t think you’re going to find one in a shelter.”

“Maybe a rescue dog, then.  I had looked into Labradoodles because they like a lot of exercise.  But active dogs might not like being cooped up in a condo all day.  So maybe I need to start looking for a house.  One with a yard.

“A house?”  He’d managed to surprise her.  “Have you looked at any properties?”

“Not yet.  It’s just something I’ve been kicking around.  I’m not home that much, but I wouldn’t mind more space.  An extra bedroom that doesn’t double as an office.  A spot for a wet bar.  Maybe an exercise room so I don’t have to keep the treadmill in my bedroom.”

There was something oddly intimate about conversing in bed, the shadows cocooning them from the stress of the case.  From the rest of the world.  Something comforting about the low rumble of his voice in her ear.  The weight of his arm around her waist.

There had been a time not too long ago when alarms would have gone off in her head as the steadiness of his presence lulled her.  A time when she would have resisted feeling too much for a man so far outside her comfort zone.

Sleep beckoned, even as his words continued to come, low and soothing.  Sophia focused on the sound of it, indulging for once in the freedom from her own personal restrictions.  The sound of Cam’s voice in her ears, the warmth of his body next to hers successfully banished Mason Vance from her mind.  And when unconsciousness sucked her under, she thought only of the man beside her.

*  *  *  *

Sonny clapped his hands over his ears and paced.  The static in his head had returned, picking up volume ever since he’d left Lucy Benally’s house to return to his own.  Mommy’s voice had lodged in his brain, a constant angry buzzing that no amount of effort could banish.  He was done listening to it, though.  He had something far more important to think about.

Vance had outlined a plan in case either of them got caught.  He’d be counting on Sonny to stay around and follow it through.  But Sonny wasn’t stupid.  He knew that if he was the one in sitting in jail Mason Vance would already be out of the state on his way to a new place where he could indulge his pastime in peace.  Vance didn’t give a shit about his partner and Sonny returned the loathing.  The man was a sadistic prick.  And as long as Sonny remained in the vicinity, he was in danger of landing in a cell right next to him.  

He wasn’t sticking around for his former partner in any case.  It wasn’t Vance who had claimed his every waking thought, it was Lucy.  Sweet, soft Lucy Benally who shared his affinity for the dead.  Sonny didn’t fool himself that she’d understand what he did at first.  The things he’d had to do.  But given time, he could teach her.  Mold her.  Eventually she’d come to realize that they were kindred spirits.  Soul mates.  Meant to be together.

And if she couldn’t be taught…his throat clutched a little at the thought.  He shied away from it at first.  Then forced himself to circle back to it.

If he was wrong about Lucy…there were always other women.

But he wasn’t wrong about her.  He knew he wasn’t.  Lucy Benally was perfect for him.  They were meant to be together.  He just had to shut off the noise in his head long enough to figure out a way to make that happen.

Dropping down on the couch, he picked up his laptop and began looking for his and Lucy’s new home.  Somewhere remote.  Isolated.  Sonny was a patient man, a gentle one, but the lessons would be easier once Lucy realized she had nowhere to run.  No one to turn to.

No one but him.

Chapter 8

 

“Sleep is known for it’s restorative powers, Lucy.  That’s why they invented beds.”  Gavin Connerly stifled a yawn as he helped the diminutive ME push the gurney holding the body discovered the evening before from the morgue’s refrigerated room.  The wheels of the cart clattered in the early morning silence as they pushed it down the sterile dimly-lit hall toward the autopsy suite Lucy had claimed.

“If you’re that tired, you can climb up on this cart once we transfer the body to the autopsy table.”  But Lucy’s words lacked rancor.  Unlike Gavin, the work they’d been involved in for the last several hours had exhilarated, rather than exhausted her.  Her mind couldn’t rest until she had answers, and if her mind wasn’t at rest, well…then her body was out of luck.

“I was shocked when you offered to accompany the ME assistants back here with the first two bodies.”  There was suspicion, and a discomforting hint of insight in his words.  “What gives, Luce?”

“Don’t call me that.”  She opened the door into the suite and they maneuvered the gurney inside.  “The first station.  Help me transfer her over to its table.  Please.”

His teeth flashed then, making his narrow face ridiculously attractive.  Her  stomach did a neat flip.  From hunger, she assured herself as they brought the gurney beside the stainless steel table and carefully lifted the body onto it.  She’d skipped dinner.  And chances for breakfast were looking about as feasible as Gavin’s pleas for sleep.

“I think that’s only the second time I’ve ever heard you say please.”

Because he so clearly wanted her to inquire, she ignored the remark.  “I can handle it from here if you want to go back to the hotel.”  

“The first time was the night we spent together before I flew back to California.”  He wheeled the gurney to the opposite wall of the suite and returned with a saunter in his step.  His green eyes were alight with amusement, and something else.  Something she didn’t want to identify.  “As I recall it was after I touched you right…”

“I seem to recall that you were the one to do most of the begging.”   She turned to the cupboard several feet away and took out the tools she’d need and arranged them on the autopsy tray.  She mentally damned herself for being drawn into the conversation after all.  Lucy didn’t need any verbal reminders about the hours she’d spent wrapped around Gavin Connerly.  Her memory of that time was spectacularly vivid.

“You know, you’re right.”  He followed her to the counter and propped his lean form against it.  The man seemed to have a phobia about standing upright.  “I wouldn’t mind doing some more begging when we’re through here.  I’m not proud.”

“I’ve noticed.”  Arranging the hammer, bonesaw, scalpels, and knives on the sterile paper towel covering the tray, she placed the tray on top of a four-shelf rolling cart and returned to the table, careful to keep her back to him so he wouldn’t see her smile.  Hers was a somber job and Lucy was a serious woman with little time for frivolity.  Longer exposure to Gavin’s seeming constant affability would surely elevate him from irritant to unbearable annoyance.  

Maybe that would be the trick to extricate him from her thoughts.  The idea tantalized.  She could increase the time she spent with him rather than avoiding him altogether.  It was almost certain that he wouldn’t wear well.

That thought summoned another, one much more intimate.  She cast a speculative glance in his direction.  Perhaps the chemistry between them would burn itself out if she spent more hours stretched out with him in that hotel bed he mentioned.  Enough to completely satiate her of this inexplicable attraction.

His brows rose.  “Whatever you’re thinking, I think I like it.”

She turned away and the sight of the three bodies waiting, still and silent on the gleaming stainless steel tables, jolted her focus back to the job.  “I’m serious.  I can take it from here.  Go get some sleep.  The victims aren’t going anywhere.”

There was a long tension-filled silence behind her.  Then Gavin appeared at her side.  “I think we both know that you can’t get rid of me.  And sometime soon you and I are going to have that discussion you’ve successfully avoided since I got here.”

“I think the matter at hand is a little more important than a conversation,” she retorted.  She brushed by him to retrieve the hand-held oscillating saw and the pruning shears that she favored as rib cutters.  Both instruments were placed on another tray and set on the second shelf of the cart.

“Agreed.”  He went to dig in the cupboard and collected measuring cups, a skull chisel and toothed forceps to join the ones she’d set out.  “The job first.  But then…”

A shiver chased down Lucy’s back at the promise imbued in his words.  She’d been granted a reprieve and it was one she gratefully accepted.  Sometime in the intervening hours she’d manage to rebuild her usually stalwart defenses. Because it was going to take far more than sharp words and a prickly exterior to drive this man away.  

She was going to need a fortress.

*  *  *  *

“You summoned?”

Masked and gowned, Cam and Sophia entered the autopsy suite.   When the smell assailed her, Sophia reared back.  The odor was as powerful as a weapon, strong enough to bring tears to her eyes.  Blinking them away, she was again reminded that given the offender’s predilection for the dead, he may be unable to smell or deliberately rendered himself that way.  The odor was different from the stench of putrefaction she’d expected.  Formaldehyde was the uppermost in the scents stinging her nose despite the mask she wore.

Gavin Connerly gave them a lazy wave, but Lucy spared them only the briefest of glances. “I figured you’d be in a hurry for information.  As it happens, I’m in a hurry to deliver it.  I’d like to start the autopsy.  Sophia.  I assume that butt-ugly suit is part of the disguise?”

Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to Sophia to consider that Lucy, who was not considered part of the investigative team, wouldn’t have been given the truth about the false obituary.  And she felt a stab of remorse for that.  “Not a very effective one, obviously.”  She strode to the woman’s side.  Touched her arm.  “I’m sorry, Lucy.  I was allowed to tell a few people the truth, but I didn’t have your number.”

“Well.”  The other woman gave her a small smile.  “That’ll teach me to be so miserly about giving it out.  I wouldn’t have known the truth if it weren’t for blabbermouth over there.”  She jerked her head in Gavin’s direction.  

“And you’re welcome,” he inserted.

“Can you put off the autopsy for an hour?”  Cam’s request elicited a dagger-like stare from Lucy.  “I’ve got a briefing in thirty minutes.”

“And I’ve got three of your victims ready to give up information about their killer.”  She walked to the side of the first autopsy station and tapped the table impatiently.  “I understand another body is being excavated as we speak.”

Cam nodded.  “There’s even a possibility of a fourth in that grave.  They’ll be digging for a while.  I’ve also got a dive team forming, so I’m probably going to be at the site most of the day.  Which doesn’t mean I don’t want to be at the autopsy” Cam hastened to add as Lucy narrowed a look at him.  “I just can’t be in two places at once without cloning myself.”

“Out of an abundance of concern for a world with two of you in it, I’d advise against the process.”  

Concentrating on breathing through her mouth, Sophia looked at the bodies.  Back to Lucy.  “You’re doing all three autopsies today?”

The ME’s mouth quirked.  “I’m good.  But not superhuman, unfortunately.  I’ve done an exam and photos of all three already.  They’ve all been weighed, cleaned and x-rayed.  I’ll probably get one autopsy done myself before heading home for some sleep.”

“Don’t let her fool you.  She’s hoping that when other staff comes in and sees the second two victims ready, they’ll start the autopsies sooner rather than later.”

Cam grinned at Gavin.  “A woman after my own heart.”  He glanced at the sharpened tools on the tray next to the autopsy station.  “Figuratively speaking.”

 “I’m just being efficient.”  Lucy’s tone was dismissive.  “ But I plan to get this first victim done before I leave today.  I’ll just let you know when the final report is ready.”

“I can have another agent here.  Just give me some time.”  

Cam and Lucy exchanged glares.  Sophia knew that being present at the autopsy meant the agent was privy to the ME’s observations as she worked on the victim.  And since they were in a hurry to glean whatever they could about the crime, it was imperative to have an observer from the task force at the autopsies, rather than wait for a  report that could take days or longer.  

“I can understand your hurry,” she told Lucy, turning to scan the other tables.  “You’ve got quite a job on your hands.  We’re in a hurry too, to learn anything you can tell us.”  She turned back to smile at the woman by her side.  “I’m not going to volunteer to be the one to observe your work, but someone from the team should be here.  How much time can you spare us?”

BOOK: Touching Evil
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