At Close Range (19 page)

He thought about the women, about their chiding fingertips and that flashy belly button ring that had reminded him of—what? He didn’t even remember anymore.

The individual deaths seemed less important than the whole.

That long-ago afternoon he’d walked out of the forest, alone and spattered with blood. He’d expected Marie to scream, to call the cops, to turn him in. And maybe part of him had wanted that.

Instead, she had cleaned him up and spread her legs for him. If he was man enough to take care of that bastard father of his, she’d said, he was man enough for her.

They had fled the state together, and he’d become a man overnight, thanks to his height and a fake ID. They had kept moving, while he grew up and learned how to survive. But of all the lessons she’d taught him before he killed her, that first lesson was the most important.

His father was right. Women were sluts.

All of them.

The hook banged on the boathouse wall in counterpoint to the words. All of them.

All of them. All of them.

It was nearly noon before he kissed the crooked-sighted rifle and dropped it in the water. Then he emerged from the boathouse, shook off the strange lethargy that weighted his limbs and hiked out to a nearby strip mall.

The planner was right. It was time to go home.

His prey was waiting for him.

The flight home sat on the tarmac for almost an hour, delayed by thunderstorms.

Seth and Cassie pondered the name on Fitz’s telephone pad. Anna Susie.

“I’m pretty sure Fitz said the caller was a man.” Cassie frowned, a faint wrinkle gathering between her eyebrows. “A male rookie cop named Anna? I don’t think so.”

“Maybe Fitz got the name wrong,” Seth said, shifting in his seat when their arms pressed together and he found it entirely too comfortable.

They hadn’t yet discussed their relationship. Maybe he was being a coward by not forcing the issue right then, but they had work to do.

A murderer to catch before he killed again.

There were too many questions and not enough answers. Why send them to Florida?

If the killer was trying to implicate Fitz, why call and warn him that they were coming to question him about the murders?

Seth cursed. “We need more data.”

“Unfortunately, it seems like we know less by the minute.” Cassie frowned. “Alissa said the Denver Lyttle lead petered out. Never mind the fact that he clearly wasn’t in Florida yesterday, he had solid alibis for two of the important time periods.

We’re talking security tapes from the store where he works—pretty solid evidence.”

“That’s the problem with eyewitnesses,” Seth grumbled, feeling the first tendrils of a headache build. He was tired and churned up, jumbled between the need to work the case and the need to set things straight with Cassie.

He was hyperaware of her motions as she settled back in her first-class seat and gave a jaw-cracking yawn. Her arm brushed against his and their knees touched.

The innocent contact sent a sizzle of warmth into his chest, reminding him of what they’d done the night before. What they’d become.

Lovers.

The word carried too much responsibility, too many expectations that he wouldn’t be able to meet. She’d be better off with someone other than him, someone who could make the promises she deserved.

He shifted in his seat and turned to her. “Look, Cassie. I really think we should,”

talk, he’d meant to say, but didn’t bother because she was fast asleep.

He muttered a curse but didn’t wake her, because neither of them had slept much the night before, and because he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. Or rather, he knew what he ought to say, but was having problems saying it aloud.

He stared at her for a long moment, at the way her long lashes—a shade darker than her hair—lay on her cheeks, making her look softer. More vulnerable.

Hollowness ached in his chest at the thought of her being hurt. By the killer.

By him.

The pilot announced that they’d begin takeoff preparation in twenty minutes. That gave Seth plenty of time to make a call.

Before he could question the urge, he dialed a familiar number, one he hadn’t called nearly enough lately.

“Hello?”

“CeeCee, it’s me.” He kept his voice pitched low, not wanting to wake Cassie. Then, realizing the privacy was an illusion, he said, “Hang on a minute.”

He unbuckled his seat belt, stood and crab-walked through the front of the first class section, where there was a small alcove near the lavatories. He pulled out one of the folding jump-seats the flight attendants used during takeoff and landing, and sat. “Okay. I’m back. How are you?”

“We’re fine. What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Seth chuckled at the edge in his sister’s voice, the maternal protectiveness she’d worn like a badge ever since that first day their mother had said, CeeCee, you’re in charge of your little brother. Keep him out of trouble.

“I’m on my way home from Florida and I’m fine.” He leaned his head back against the airplane bulkhead. “I just…hell, I don’t know.”

Ever-practical, solid CeeCee said, “The last time I heard that tone of voice, you’d bought the Denver house and were afraid to tell Robyn about it.”

“This is nothing like—” He paused. “Okay, maybe it is. I’ve gotten myself into something and I’m not sure how to get out without hurting someone.”

There was a pause. He couldn’t hear anything in the background, which meant that CeeCee’s husband and kids were off somewhere else, because Lord knew, they weren’t a quiet bunch. Then she said, “This isn’t about your work, is it?” And there was a new, softer note in her voice.

“No.”

“I’m glad,” she said simply. “It’s time. Robyn would want you to move on and be happy.”

“I’m perfectly happy,” he argued, “and you’re not listening to me. I’m not starting something. I’m trying to figure out how to end it without hurting the woman in question.”

“What’s her name?”

He sighed. “Cassie.”

“And what’s the matter with her? She have a criminal record? Antisocial tendencies? Bad breath?”

He snorted. “No. None of those things.”

“Then why end it? You don’t love her?”

“I barely know her!” The response rang false, but Seth ignored the twinge and said,

“It’s not fair to her. She wants kids eventually. That means marriage.”

Amusement tinged CeeCee’s words when she said, “If you barely know her, isn’t it a bit premature to decide you don’t want to marry her and father her children?”

“This isn’t funny. I’m serious.”

Her voice sobered. “I know you are. I just don’t see the problem. Are you sure you’re not making this more complicated than it needs to be?”

He let the silence hang. A flight attendant walked past and gave him a faint, distracted smile. When she was gone, he sighed and said, “I think Mom and Dad had it right. One marriage per person. Get it right the first time because you don’t get another chance. Don’t you remember those lectures?”

“That was a hyperbole and you know it,” his sister said. “They wanted to make sure we wouldn’t go through three or four marriages like some people. They wanted us to be sure before we took our vows. And it worked, didn’t it? I was positive I wanted to marry Jack. You were positive you wanted to marry Robyn.” Now her voice softened. “Robyn’s death was a terrible, awful thing. But it doesn’t mean your entire marriage was a mistake.”

“But what if it was?” he asked, and took a deep breath. “Some days I think that if she’d lived, we would’ve ended up divorced. We fought all the time. Hell, we fought the day she died.”

And for that, he would never forgive himself.

“Couples fight,” CeeCee said pragmatically. “Life goes on. Doesn’t mean you would have divorced. And if you had, would the world truly have ended? You did your best.

That’s all anyone can ask.”

“My best wasn’t good enough.” Seth flexed his knee, which ached from his cramped position. “I don’t want to go through that again.” It wasn’t worth the guilt, the shouts, the bad feelings.

“That’s your choice.” CeeCee sounded irritated now. “But don’t you dare blame it on Mom and Dad for lectures they gave us when we were horny teenagers. They never meant you should stop living when Robyn died. Hell, call them if you don’t believe me.

They’ll tell you themselves.”

“No. That’s okay.” Seth closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. “I hear you.”

“You hear me but you don’t believe me,” CeeCee said. Her voice softened. “Give it a chance, Seth. Being lonely isn’t going to bring Robyn back and it isn’t going to change what happened—or didn’t—between the two of you. It’s time to start something new, find a different pattern.”

“Maybe.” But if that was the case, shouldn’t he pick someone who was the opposite of his fractious wife? Shouldn’t he look for a calm, stress-free relationship that would avoid the arguments, the accusations?

Hell, he didn’t know anymore.

“Look, I’ve got to go,” he said when the same flight attendant passed again, and this time tapped her watch to indicate that it was nearly time for the plane to take off.

“I’ll call you in a few days.”

He ended the call more tangled up inside than ever.

When he returned to his seat and buckled in, Cassie shifted in her sleep and touched her head to his shoulder. She sighed softly and the faint wrinkle between her eyebrows faded.

Seth thought about easing her aside.

Instead, he laid his head back on the seat and closed his eyes while the plane taxied into position and accelerated, sending them home.

AS THEY DISEMBARKED from the plane, Cassie felt Seth’s tension, but he brushed her off when she asked what was wrong. She snuck glances at him, and saw the angry set to his jaw and the coolness in his eyes. Beneath the annoyance, she thought she detected guilt. Reluctance. And that made her nervous.

She didn’t press him for an explanation. Instead she ran through the Florida trip in her head, trying to figure out what had him so upset. It could be the case, of course, but she didn’t think it was. His mood seemed too bleak for that. Too hurt.

So it was something she had done, or something she hadn’t done. But what? What could she do to fix it? How could she—

Whoa. She stopped dead in the middle of the airport concourse, nearly causing a pedestrian pileup behind her.

Seth stopped and looked back. “Something wrong?”

Yes. Everything was wrong, she realized suddenly. She was doing it again. She was making excuses for the man in her life, trying to figure out what she had done to make him unhappy, what she could do to fix things.

Anger surged, not at him but at herself. At the weakness she thought she’d conquered when she left Lee.

Damn it, she knew better.

But that was her problem, not his, so she forced herself to walk. “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

They left the airport terminal, picked up Seth’s truck from short-term parking and headed straight for the Bear Claw police station.

Annoyed with herself and the silence, Cassie punched Alissa’s number into her cell.

According to Alissa’s last report, Denver Lyttle had admitted that he had driven Jasmine Gardner home from the slopes the afternoon before her murder, but said he’d dropped her off at home before six because she needed to get ready for a hot date.

With a solid alibi for the time of the murder—between ten that night and two the next morning—and an explanation of the witness testimony, Denver had been released.

Which sent them back nearly to square one. Suspicions but no suspects. Evidence but no concrete patterns.

Alissa’s voice answered, sounding breathless and harried. She must have checked caller ID, because she immediately said, “Cassie, I need you to meet me at Hawthorne Hospital. Something’s happened to Maya.”

Cassie’s heart jammed her throat. Oh, God. Not Maya. “What? What’s wrong?”

Seth looked over at her tone, but she gestured for him to wait while she pressed the cell phone to her ear, willing the connection to stay strong as they passed under an overpass.

The connection fuzzed but held enough for her to hear Alissa say, “I’m not sure.

Just get here!”

Cassie slapped the phone shut, pulse pounding. “We’ve got to go to the hospital.

Maya’s been hurt.”

Without a word, Seth cut across three lanes of traffic, ignored the angry horn blasts and took the next exit, which dumped them in downtown Bear Claw, maybe five minutes from Hawthorne Memorial Hospital. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie twisted her fingers together as a parade of images jammed her brain. Maya cheering and flushed with success when the three of them graduated from the academy. Maya playing the impromptu counselor, sitting Cassie down after another bad first date, prodding until the Lee situation had come spilling out. Maya telling her it wasn’t her fault, urging her to take what she needed from the experience and move on.

Maya a few days ago, looking sad and lost and torn up over a child services case.

Guilt stabbed Cassie. She should’ve tried harder to find Maya, to make sure she was okay. The case was no excuse. Seth was no excuse. She should have been a better friend.

“We’re here.” Seth pulled his truck into the Emergency dock and whistled. “And apparently, so is everyone else.”

The ambulance bay was crammed with people. Satellite trucks were parked haphazardly in the visitors’ area, and men and women with cameras and microphone booms jostled for position near the main ER doors. Smaller knots of people spread out to the edges, where brightly dressed on-camera talents did stand-up reports from the scene.

But the scene of what?

“Let me out here,” Cassie ordered, reaching for the door.