All the Pretty Faces (28 page)

Silas paced the cell, his heart beating so fast he thought it would explode out of his chest. Maybe it would, and his blood would fly against the dirt-stained, graffiti-covered walls.

Down the hall, voices rumbled. He wasn’t the only prisoner in the Graveyard Falls jail.

What kind of scumbag had they put in here with him? Didn’t they realize he was a noted, respected doctor? That he had skills?

Those skills made you a suspect
, he reminded himself.

It wasn’t just the skills. It was those ugly claw marks on the young women’s faces.

Time dragged him back into a vortex of bad memories, and he swayed, so dizzy he could barely stand.

He wrapped his trembling fingers around the bars of the cage. The birds were squawking, flapping their wings, and screeching their attack call.

He sank to the floor and covered his head with his hands to fend them off, but dozens of them flew at him, pecking his skin and tearing at his flesh. The metallic scent of blood hit him. It was dripping down his arms and face.

Pain seared his cheek, and he tried to scream and fight off the raptors, but they were vicious, and he must smell like carrion because they swarmed him, enjoying their feast.

Betsy’s sweet face floated through the terror, then an image of her lying on the ground, blood oozing from that knife and her chest.

Images of the other girls followed, Charity, Patty, Neesie . . . they all looked the same. All like perfect Mitzi dolls, their pretty faces a disguise for the ugliness beneath.

Cold terror enveloped him, and he doubled over.

He’d called his attorney, but he hadn’t answered, so he’d left a message.

God dammit, he had to call Josie DuKane.

She’d told the Bride Killer’s story so everyone would understand.

Hopefully she’d do the same for him.

He licked his lips and tasted blood—he’d clawed at his face with his own nails until he’d drawn blood.

Betsy’s blood had tasted so much sweeter, but his tasted like the monster that he was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Josie jotted down notes on Silas Grimley the way she had done on Billy and Charlene Linder. There was a story here to tell, the truth about the Butcher murderer, but she still sensed something was missing.

She needed details of each victim to get to the heart of the story. Needed to know more about Charity, Patty, and Neesie. Their likes and dislikes, their family history, their dreams.

They were innocent victims and the ones the public would relate to and want justice for. Their future had been robbed by a man who, although abused himself, had inflicted unspeakable pain on each of them and their family and friends.

What had their thoughts been before they died?

A chill swept over her. She remembered her own—worrying about her mother and the grief she’d experience when Josie was gone. About the people she would miss. About the family she would never have.

Dane’s face materialized, an image of the two of them together planting itself in her mind.

Only Dane didn’t want her.

Shoving thoughts of him aside, she turned back to her notes. The plastic surgeon intrigued her. His experience with the birds of prey and his abusive father, his bone collections, and his rejection through the years had set him up for mental health issues. No wonder he chose plastic surgery. The stigma of being scarred in a world where magazines, TVs, and movies plastered photographs of perfect people that no normal individual could live up to had inspired him to help others.

All noble. Except for these murders.

Her phone jangled, and she checked it, hoping it was Dane. The sheriff’s number appeared on the display.

She pressed Connect. “Hello.”

“Josie,” Sheriff Kimball said. “Is Agent Hamrick with you?”

“No. Did you try his phone?”

“Actually, I really wanted to speak with
you
.”

Josie frowned. “With me? Why?”

“Dr. Grimley’s lawyer showed up, but Grimley is insisting on talking to you. He says that you’ll listen to the truth, that Agent Hamrick won’t.”

“Dane’s just so close to this,” Josie said in defense of Dane.

“I know, and I understand the reason now. But Grimley responded to you. Maybe you can help.”

Josie tapped her pen on her notepad. Dane wouldn’t like it.

He was satisfied that he had the Butcher in custody. He’d suffered so much already.

Although if there was something Silas was holding back, and she could get that information, she had to try. “All right. I’ll come over in the morning.”

He thanked her and disconnected. Outside, a car engine rumbled and headlights gleamed through the front window.

She rose from the table and went to the door. Dane had parked and was walking up the drive, his head bent.

A strong gust of wind hurled leaves across the yard, tossing his hair in disarray, making him look wild and unkempt.

And so handsome that her lungs squeezed for air.

She opened the door, anxious to know what had happened with his mother, praying it went as he’d hoped.

When he looked up at her with anguish darkening his expression, she knew it hadn’t.

Dane cursed the circumstances. He’d thought solving his sister’s case would bring his mother back to life, but he’d left her looking just as listless as before.

Josie gently touched his hand. “Dane?”

“I saw her.” He barely managed the words past the lump in his throat. “I told her, but I don’t know if she heard.”

Josie’s eyes flickered with compassion. “She heard. Give her time, Dane.”

Time was supposed to heal, but he felt rawer tonight than ever.

Grimley’s confession had opened up the wounds again, resurrected memories and images of his sister, images so painful it was as if he’d just received news of her death again.

He hadn’t known what to do with himself. Where to go.

Except that he’d wanted to be with Josie.

Josie took his arm and coaxed him inside. “Do you want food? A drink? To talk?”

He shook his head. The only thing he wanted was to forget the pain for a little while.

“Dane?” She pressed her hand against his cheek. “Tell me what you need.”

His gaze latched with hers, hunger spiraling through him, and he slid his arms around her waist. “I need you,” he said gruffly. “I want you.”

A soft smile curved her mouth.

“I know that’s not fair,” he finished. Would he be using her?

“Life isn’t fair,” Josie said. “What happened with me and Billy Linder wasn’t fair. All the murders in this town, those young women dying—that wasn’t fair.” Her voice turned husky. “Losing your sister and your mother shutting down wasn’t fair.”

Emotions made his body tremble.

He didn’t speak, though. He didn’t have to. Josie understood.

Desire and heat flickered in her eyes as she led him to her bedroom. His breath rushed out as she cupped his face between her hands.

When she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his, he felt humbled. Honored.

Starved for her touch.

She tasted like sweetness and sin and salvation all at the same time. He moaned low in his throat as he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

Josie threaded her fingers in his hair, urging him closer, and he trailed his fingers along her shoulders and down her back, settling her into the vee of his thighs. His cock hardened, throbbed, ached for her touch.

He wanted to tear her clothes off, sink himself inside her, and lose himself in the pounding of their bodies together.

Instead he forced himself to go more slowly. To let his fingers linger around her waist, to drop kisses along her neck, and to tease the sensitive lobe of her ear. Her body moved against him, her hands clinging to his arms as if she might collapse if he didn’t hold her up.

Her breathing grew rapid as he unbuttoned her blouse and parted the delicate fabric. White lace barely covered her generous breasts, taunting him with the promise of firm, ripe nipples beneath.

He groaned as she began to unbutton his shirt. Heat fired his blood, his passion growing with every touch of her fingers on his hot skin. She slid his shirt off his shoulders, and he did the same with hers, pausing to admire the golden skin of her cleavage and the flesh peeking beneath the sheer lace.

Excitement mounting, he lowered his head and trailed more kisses along her neck and throat, then lower to her cleavage. She moaned, soft and husky, and he walked her backward toward the bed until they stood against it.

Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing, and he teased her nipples through the lace. She kissed his jaw and clung to his arms as he eased her jeans down her legs, and she stepped out of them.

She looked so damn beautiful clad in sheer lace that his heart gave an odd pang and his cock throbbed to be inside that luscious body.

She shoved at his jeans, and he grabbed a condom from the pocket, then tossed his pants aside. A devilish twinkle sparked in her eyes, and she cupped his ass in her hands and ran kisses over his chest until he thought he would die from bliss.

Unable to resist any longer, he unfastened her bra and released a pleasured sigh as her breasts spilled into his hands. He rolled them in his palms, then dipped his head to tug one ripe nipple into his mouth. She moaned and whispered his name, then threw her head back in abandon.

The invitation was all he needed.

He trailed tongue licks down her belly to her heat, then stripped her panties, dropped to his knees, nudged her legs apart, and flicked his tongue along her sweet, damp center.

Erotic sensations pummeled Josie as Dane swept his tongue along her sensitive folds. She dug her hands into his hair, trembling with pleasure as he brought her to the brink of an orgasm.

Sweet release teetered on the surface.

She whispered his name, aching to have him closer, but he plunged his tongue into her heat, and she groaned as the first waves of euphoria caught her and carried her through the ride.

Seconds later, he eased her back onto the bed. He stripped his boxers and crawled above her, then rolled on the condom and nudged her legs apart with his thick length.

Her body convulsed in mind-numbing pleasure again as he stroked her body with his shaft. She lifted her hips, meeting him thrust for thrust, then gripped his hips, desperate to have him deeper inside her.

He braced his hands on each side of her, his breath rushing out as he drove deeper and deeper, building a frantic rhythm that they rode together until another orgasm rippled through her.

His followed, the intensity in his groan lifting her heart with the fact that she’d given him pleasure in the midst of his pain.

He called her name, his head thrown back, his body slamming into her again and again, the passion as fierce and undeniable as the love soaring in her heart.

Love?

She tensed, mentally battling the emotion. He must have realized her hesitation because he paused and searched her eyes.

“Josie?”

The insecurity in his voice obliterated any reservations she had, and she licked her lips then smiled and drew his head down for another kiss.

He closed his mouth over hers, and she tasted her own desire mingled with his hunger, spiking her orgasm to a fever pitch that nearly brought tears to her eyes.

She’d thought Billy Linder had ruined her for wanting to be with a man, for trusting, for allowing herself to be vulnerable again.

To love.

Dane had given that back to her.

Dane closed his eyes, battling emotions as he rolled sideways, slipped from the bed, and stepped into the bathroom. A desperate hunger and need had driven him to Josie’s bed.

That need made him want to go back and never leave her.

How long had it been since he’d allowed himself to feel pleasure?

Josie called his name, and he stripped the condom and then crawled back in bed beside her and pulled her into his arms. His chest heaved for a breath, and his heart pounded with the aftermath of sensations still shooting through him.

He had never made love to any woman who made him feel like Josie did.

He wanted to do it all over again.

That thought scared the shit out of him, but he forced his fear aside. He and Josie had both needed the release.

It was more than that, and you know it.

He squashed that voice. Sex was all it could ever be. His life was his job, and that job was too damn dangerous to chance being with a woman long term.

Besides, loving someone and losing them hurt too damn much.

Josie rubbed slow circles over his chest with one finger, a gentle gesture that aroused him and made his heart tug painfully at the same time.

He stilled her fingers with one hand. “Josie?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“Thanks for tonight.”

A tense second passed. “You don’t have to thank me.” She lifted her hand and placed it against his cheek, forcing him to look at her. “I wanted you, Dane. I still do.”

Her honey-like voice did something to him, and he kissed her again, hunger consuming him.

She rolled him to his back and climbed on top of him, and he teased her nipples to stiff peaks with his fingers. She groaned, threw her head back, and moaned as he tugged one into his mouth.