Closer Than You Think (57 page)

‘It was the day after the white van tried to run me off the bridge, so three weeks ago.’

Bishop closed her eyes for a moment, then sighed. ‘Where did you drop her off?’

Faith’s hands froze, then slowly lowered to her lap, her eyes wide. Horrified anew. ‘No. No.’ She shook her head. ‘Tell me I did not lead him to her.
Tell me
.’ When they said nothing, a spasm of pain contorted her face. She dropped her chin to her chest and wept silently.

Breaking Deacon’s heart. He rose slowly, feeling five hundred years old. He stroked her hair as he looked around the room and saw understanding in the eyes of the team. They knew what she’d done. And why.

In Adam’s eyes he also saw shame. And respect. ‘You worked both sides of the fence, didn’t you?’ he said quietly. ‘You helped put Combs away. That’s why he hates you so much.’

‘
If
she did, she might lose her license,’ Deacon said, his voice sharp.

Adam shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell.’

Isenberg blew out an unsteady breath. ‘None of this leaves this room.’

Tanaka blinked several times. ‘None of what, Lynda?’

Isenberg nodded. ‘Get her out of here, Deacon. And figure out who’s behind this before she does something stupid, like give herself up.’ Drawing a deep breath, she left the room.

‘I will,’ Deacon promised, still stroking Faith’s hair. She continued to weep, still silently.

Adam hung back when the others had left. ‘When did she tell you?’ he asked.

‘Late last night, when I took her to the ER.’

‘But somehow you knew earlier. I’m sorry, Deacon.’ He turned to Faith and put his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘And Faith, I . . . forgive me. I didn’t know.’

She didn’t lift her head, but managed a small nod.

Adam gathered her laptop case and overnight bag along with the box he’d brought with him earlier. ‘I have a safe place for her to stay. I’ll text you the address and meet you there.’

Deacon looked his cousin in the eye, daring Adam to say he planned to stay the night with them. Adam lifted one black brow. ‘I’ll meet you there to give you the key and show you the security system,’ he clarified.

‘Thank you,’ Deacon said and waited for Adam to leave. Then he pulled Faith to her feet and into his arms, holding her tight as she wept for a young woman who’d escaped one monster only to be killed by another.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 2.30
A.M.

‘Wow.’ Deacon looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the view of the city below. Adam’s safe place was a penthouse on the top floor of a high-rise on the river. Apparently it belonged to a corporate bigwig who was currently on assignment in Southeast Asia. The man’s daughter had been kidnapped and Adam had been the one to bring her home safely and bring her kidnapper to justice. Grateful for her safe return, he’d offered his condo for the department’s use while he was away if they should ever need it. Adam had contacted the man, who had agreed to let Faith stay there.

Deacon turned from the city lights to Faith, who sat on a sofa, her shoulders pitched forward, her head hanging low, her grief-ravaged face hidden by a waterfall of thick red hair. Her hands neatly folded in her lap, she hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d put her there ten minutes before.

She was hiding from him, there in plain sight.

‘The fridge is stocked,’ Adam said, coming out of the kitchen. ‘Toiletries in each bathroom. Anything that isn’t in a locked cabinet is yours for the taking.’ He handed a set of keys to Deacon. ‘The elevator is keyed only to come straight to this floor from the parking garage in the basement. No one should bother you. Isenberg’s got a uniform by the elevator in the garage and one by the stairwell door, just in case.’

‘Thank you.’ Deacon tore his attention from Faith to meet his cousin’s dark eyes. ‘Are we okay, Adam? You and me?’

Adam swallowed hard. ‘Yeah. I’ve been a dick and I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.’

‘It’s forgotten.’ Deacon pulled him close for a hard hug, slapping him on the back. ‘Go home. See your mother. And if you want to tell me what happened, I’ll be around.’

‘I’m glad. We’ve missed you, Dani and I. See you tomorrow morning.’ Adam looked at Faith, then lowered his voice. ‘There are ice packs in the freezer if she wants one for her face.’ Without waiting for a reply, he jogged to the door and let himself out.

For a moment, there was only silence, heavy and tense.

‘An ice pack would be nice,’ Faith murmured from behind her hair. ‘I must look a fright.’

Deacon brought her one, then, before she could protest, lifted her in his arms and settled them both into the corner of the sofa, her body tucked up against him, his hand curving over her round bottom to keep her close. His body immediately responded, but she didn’t pull away.

He tipped her chin up, but she covered her face with the ice pack. Undeterred, he kissed the top of her head. ‘You cried because you care. How can I see you as anything but beautiful?’

She rested her head against his shoulder. ‘My head hurts. My heart, too.’

‘I know.’ He tugged the ice pack away from her face. ‘You’ll get freezer burn,’ he teased, and was rewarded with a hiccuped laugh. ‘You are the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, so please don’t hide from me.’

She searched his face. ‘What are we going to do, Deacon?’

‘Right now, we’re going to sleep. I’m so tired I can’t think straight, and I know you are too. Come with me.’ He stood, letting her slide down his body until her feet hit the floor. He wasn’t so selfish that he’d expect sex after what she’d been through, but he wanted her to know exactly what she did to him. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he took her to the bedroom, where Adam had placed her Hello Kitty overnight bag.

‘Arms up,’ he said brusquely, and proceeded to undress her down to her panties. Biting back his lust, he pulled the blanket aside. ‘Get in.’

He tucked her in, unable to resist stroking the silky skin of her back before he drew the covers up to her neck, determined to walk away and sleep in the next bedroom. Otherwise he’d never be able to keep his hands off her.

A little moan escaped her throat. ‘That felt good. Can you do it again?’

‘Sure.’
I am a goddamned saint
, he thought, gritting his teeth as he toed off his shoes. He climbed on to the bed, torturing himself by straddling her so that her bottom brushed against his now painfully hard erection. He tugged the blanket down to bare her back and massaged her with long, deep strokes that had her sighing.

Her sighs grew quieter, her body still as she finally fell asleep. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the blanket up to her neck and climbed off the bed, taking care not to wake her.

‘Where are you going?’ she mumbled just as he got to the door.

He didn’t turn around. ‘To sleep in my own room.’

‘Why? Don’t go. Please stay.’ He heard the sheets rustle and couldn’t help but picture all that beautiful creamy bare skin. ‘Sleep here. With me.’

‘I can’t. I can’t be that close to you and not touch you.’

‘I know. Come to bed with me, Deacon.’

His pants hit the floor in a jingle of change. He didn’t even remember lowering the zipper, but he was climbing into bed beside her wearing only the black silk boxers with little red flames that he’d pulled on that morning. When he’d taken the comfort she’d offered. He pulled her back against his chest, wrapping one arm around her waist.

And forgot how to breathe when she moved his hand up to cover her breast. His heart was beating so hard it was all he could hear. He leaned up to look at her face on the pillow. Her lips were parted, her breathing deep and even. She was nearly asleep already, so he took the opportunity to simply look at her.
So damn pretty
.

He didn’t know how many seconds ticked by as he watched her sleep.
She’s finally calm. Finally unafraid.
Her brow was smooth, unfurrowed with worry and guilt. He wanted this for her waking hours, wanted her to be completely unafraid. He had to stop this monster. Before she did something stupid. Isenberg was right. Too many more victims on her conscience and Faith would give herself up, just to make it stop.

Not on my watch
. He’d figure it out. He had to. He’d just found her.
I won’t lose you now
. Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, he snuggled behind her and let his mind disconnect.

Eastern Kentucky, Wednesday 5 November, 6.45
A.M.

He took the S-curves at a decent clip, appreciating the way the pickup truck grabbed the roads. He’d never been the pickup type and would never have chosen the vehicle. It was the owner he’d targeted as she’d come out of the hospital. She’d been in her fifties, wearing a designer suit that had probably cost more than the truck. And she was lightweight. She couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds.

Light enough to pick up and toss in the backseat after he’d come up behind her, clamped one hand over her mouth and slit her throat with the other.

But even though she’d been wealthy, she’d been too greedy to pay for parking in a lighted area, and that had been her downfall. When he’d first followed her, he’d expected her to drive a classy sedan or SUV. He hadn’t expected her to walk up to the big King Cab truck.

According to the Facebook profile she’d left open on her phone, she owned a barn full of fancy horses and had just become a grandmother, which was why she’d been at the hospital all night. The truck was deluxe, with all the bells and whistles. He’d have liked to keep it, but a vehicle like this would be noticed, especially in his neighborhood. So he’d get the job done and ditch it.

He stopped in front of the cabin, almost sorry he’d already arrived. He got out . . . and went still. The door was open. He’d closed it. He’d locked it. He was sure he had.

Leaving the truck door open in case he needed a quick escape, he pulled the gun from his waistband and approached carefully. He opened the door. And felt his heart stop.

The floorboards had been pulled up and tossed in a pile. The bodies had been discovered. He crept inside, listening for any sound of a trap. But there was only silence, deep and oppressive. He aimed the beam of his flashlight into the ground. The bodies had been unearthed, head to waist. The Earl Power logo was clearly visible on the power tech’s jacket.

I should have stripped them nude
. He always stripped them nude.
Why didn’t I do that?

Because he’d been in a hurry to get back to the city and kill Faith.
Damn her to hell
. Why wouldn’t she just die already?

Relax. Nobody’s reported them
. The bodies were still here and there were no police around. The Earl Power guy was a known missing person. Some curious passer-by probably saw the mound of fill dirt he’d left on the floor and—

Shit
. The girl.
Roza was gone
.

He ran around the back and his stomach started to heave. The doors to the storm shelter had been thrown wide open. He shone his light down into the cellar, fighting back sheer panic.

Because Corinne Longstreet was gone too.

He stumbled down the stairs, swinging the beam of his flashlight around the cellar, dazed. His mind reeling. He’d left her here for a day. Only a day. He’d expected to find Corinne half frozen, or maybe even dead. But not gone.

His light hit two small piles of rope. His rope. He picked up the pieces and studied the ends. They’d been sawn with a very dull knife. The Longstreet bitch had had a knife.

Where had she gotten it? He’d searched her thoroughly when he’d shackled her to the cot. She’d been carrying a can of pepper spray in her backpack, but he’d found that right away.

I should never have taken her
. If he hadn’t, he never would have had to take Arianna. Who wouldn’t have gotten away, and no one would have invaded his home and taken his things.

He drew a deep breath through his nose, determined to stay calm.
Do not think about it. Do not think about them in my house, touching my things
.

Think about getting Corinne back and making her pay
.

Hell, think about getting Roza back before she told the world what he looked like.

He took the stairs in a few leaps, running back into the cabin.
She’d
uncovered the bodies. The Longstreet woman. The pile of dirt and the shovel he’d left behind had piqued her curiosity, no doubt.
Well, all right then
. That wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like anyone else knew. This could still be contained – if he found her. How hard could that be?

Considering she’d hidden a knife and managed to free herself and the girl?
Maybe hard
.

Still, she was one woman, and a sick one at that. She’d be needing her medicine soon. And she’d be slowed down by the child. How far could she have gotten?

He swung his flashlight around the room, noting the open drawers and cabinets. She
was
smart, he thought reluctantly. She’d taken supplies. But it was also extra weight she had to carry that would slow her down.

The beam of his flashlight landed on the closet, and his gut twisted.
My things.
He’d put the trunk in there the night before. Slowly he approached, almost afraid to look. Then he let out a relieved breath. The old steamer trunk was still there.

He lifted the lid, scanned the contents anxiously. The jars on top had rolled around in the trunk as he’d moved them into the closet, but none had been broken. And in the smaller box next to the jars, his collection of their things, the items each victim had carried on the day he’d taken her – credit cards, cash, jewelry . . . and now cell phones, of course.

Briefly he weighed the danger of keeping the box and trunk with him in a stolen truck versus leaving them in the closet while he looked for Corinne and the child. If they had managed to find help, the cops would storm this place. He was not going to allow his belongings to be taken, especially by the police.

He grabbed the wheelbarrow, loaded the trunk into it, then moved his collection to the dead equestrian’s truck. Then he loaded the woman into the wheelbarrow for the trip back into the cabin so he could bury her with the others.

He looked around for the shovel, but it was gone too. The Longstreet bitch again, he thought angrily.
She’s stolen my shovel
.

With his hands, he pushed the soil away, once again glad that he’d picked a skinny victim. Once he’d stripped her naked, she slid right between the Earl Power tech and the locksmith. He pushed the dirt back over them and replaced the floorboards. This time he’d get rid of the dirt, dumping it down the storm cellar and closing the cellar doors.

When he got back to the truck, he looked both ways, shining his flashlight in the dirt along the road. And there was a footprint. She’d gone back the way he’d just come. Depending on how long she’d been free, and how heavy her pack was . . . she might have made it ten miles. Which was just fine, because there was no civilization for at least that far.

But why hadn’t he seen her? Maybe she’d hidden.
And I was driving faster than normal.

Damn truck. He’d had too much fun driving it. He’d have to slow down. He got into the vehicle and headed back toward town, searching for Corinne.

Cincinnati, Ohio, Wednesday 5 November, 7.45
A.M.

Faith woke to feathers tickling her nose. No, she realized. Not feathers. The soft hair that covered Deacon Novak’s chest. At some point she’d rolled over and now lay sprawled across him, her legs tangled with his, his chest her pillow.

Lightly she petted him. His chest hair was solid white too. She wondered how far down the white went. Her fingers followed the trail down his chest, over his very nice abs. The backs of her fingers brushed silk. And then steel. He was hard.

Her body clenched, wanting him. Wanting him now. For her own. She slipped her hand under his waistband and curled her fingers around him, his erection jerking in her hand.