Cold Touch (42 page)

got this monkey off her back. She was like a heroin addict who was never

gonna be made whole and wel and strong until she kicked the habit.

“It’s not always . . .”

“Like hel it’s not. You live in a horror movie al the time. It’s wrong, it’s

unhealthy and eventual y it’s going to make you want to put a bul et in your

head.”

He heard her gasp, saw her jerk a little and realized he’d done exactly what

Julia had asked him not to do. He’d been too hard on her, not that Olivia didn’t

need to hear these things, but now wasn’t the time, and this sure as hel wasn’t

the place.

Feeling like an utter shit, he muttered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’ve obviously given it some thought.”

“Wel , I’m not thinking too straight right now.” That was certainly true. “Listen,

I’ve got to get to work. My lieutenant’s going to order me off the scene as soon

as he gets here. He’l probably tel me to go home for a few days. I’l make an

excuse to go by the precinct first and track down everything Ty’s been up to.”

She

nodded

once.

“That’s

a

good

idea.

Wil

you

please

cal

my

office

and

let

somebody know if you need help?” She sounded as though she didn’t think

he’d trust her enough to cal her directly. “Promise me you won’t do anything

without backup.”

No backup. Yeah, right. He didn’t have a partner anymore; Ty was gone.

That reality was going to sink in any minute now. Or any decade, maybe.

“I won’t,” he told her. “Now, let Julia take you home. Try to get some sleep. I

know you need it.” He wanted to reassure her, tel her he hadn’t meant the

things he’d said. But how could he do that? He had meant them. He regretted

having said them now and in that way, but he’d meant every one of them. He

loved her, deep down, he truly suspected he did. But damned if he would ever

stay by her side and watch her kil herself a little at a time.

In the end, though, he simply said, “Take care of yourself. I’l come soon, and

we’l talk.”

Before he could leave, she reached for his hand, saying, “Gabe? I’m so

sorry about Ty.”

He squeezed her fingers, thanking her for the sentiment and silently offering

her the reassurances he couldn’t verbalize just yet. “Yeah, so am I, Liv. So am I.

”

Johnny had figured Olivia would be alone at her house at some point today.

Sooner or later her boyfriend was gonna find out his partner was dead, and

she’d come back here to be al sad by herself while he played superhero

crime solver.

That partner—the thought of him stil made him bal his fists in impotent

rage. “Dirty fighter,” he snapped, stil sore from where the man had punched

him in the back. Bastard had been strong; he had bruises as big as dinner

plates on him. “Shooting was too damn easy for ya.”

At least he was gone, that particular threat eliminated.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think he was in the clear. The cop could have

told his partner what he’d found out, so Johnny was probably gonna have to kil

him, too. But the woman just had to go first. He wanted to take her, terrify her,

then cut her throat.

Johnny sat in his van, the one he used to haul around his landscaping

equipment. The one everybody in Olivia’s neighborhood had seen a hundred

times parked in dozens of driveways. Right now, it was parked in the one

beside her house, and from here, he had a perfect view of her balcony. Olivia

was home, upstairs in her room. Alone.

She’d looked like shit when her friend had helped her into the house, half-

dragging, half-carrying her. The flashy brunette had helped her up the stairs to

her room, and when she’d left, she’d closed the front door softly, like she

hadn’t wanted to wake anybody up.

An afternoon nap. Perfect.

It wasn’t an ideal situation. It was daylight, for one thing. And the woman

might not be total y out. Yet he couldn’t wait. He was running out of time,

needed to finish this, enjoy her while he could, then put her in the ground. A

quick packing job, then he and Jackie would be on their way to who knew

where to lie low for a while.

He’d promised he would go away for a while, and he tried to keep his

promises, though he wasn’t always successful. Aside from the promise, he

couldn’t take one more frantic phone cal , one more interrogation from

somebody who should have learned years ago to stay out of Johnny’s

business. Then again, his cousin’s phone cal about that cop had come at a

pretty good time yesterday. If not for that cal , Johnny might not’a knowed

Wal ace was on to him.

His cousin was the one who’d asked him to leave town for a while . . . the

one he’d made the promise to. She was al worried about him, thinking his

mind had split apart when he’d lost Jackie.

Ha. If only she knew Jack was safe and sound, tucked in the camper.

Knowing he had to act now, before people started getting home for dinner,

he headed into the neighbor’s backyard and then leapt over the fence. A dash

across a few feet of open grass, and he was on her back patio. He’d already

tested her locks and knew exactly which door to jimmy.

“No alarms,” he mumbled, “not like when you was a kid.”

Not that the alarm had been a problem—hel , he’d had the code, hadn’t he?

He was inside ninety seconds after he’d left the van. Reaching the stairs, he

suddenly hesitated, sure he’d heard something. A creak, or rustle. He peered

into the room he’d just come through, then into the one closer to the door,

seeing a curtain moving.

An air vent. Had to be. It was cold as a pig’s ass in here. Hel , right now he

felt a chil washing over him like somebody’d dumped a bucket of cold water

down his shirt.

Johnny turned to the stairs, lifted his foot, and suddenly stumbled forward,

like he’d tripped over something, though nothing was there. He almost fel , but

managed to right himself.

“Get on with it,” he whispered, climbing the steps with slow, cautious

determination. He ignored the strange feelings this place brought out in him

—the feeling he was being watched—and went straight into her room.

She was, as he’d expected, on her bed, sound asleep, curled up on her

side with her hands clasped under her chin. He stared at her, Johnny’s nostrils

flaring and the black rage building inside him as he thought of what she’d

done, what she’d cost him.
Jack. Oh, God, Jackie-boy . . .

He crept closer. The woman on the bed hadn’t made a move or a sound.

Nor did she, not until he slapped his hand over her mouth.

Then she came awake right quick.

She launched up, grabbing at his hand, her eyes about popping out of her

head. But unlike the last time, when terror froze her, she fought hard,

scratching and kicking. So he couldn’t enjoy her moment of panic.

He simply had to lift the gun he was holding and slam it down hard on her

head.

Though stil angry at him for saying whatever he’d said to hurt Olivia this

afternoon, Julia couldn’t help feeling very sorry for Gabe Cooper. He’d spoken

in a moment of horrible stress, in the midst of tragedy, and she had no doubt

he regretted it.

Because the man loved her. She could see it on his face, hear it in his

voice. She’d known it the minute he’d nearly ripped her head off for letting

Olivia touch Ty’s remains.

Concern like that didn’t come out of liking someone. He’d fal en for her

friend in a big way, just as Julia believed Olivia had fal en for him.

There was something else: For the first time since the day Olivia had

walked into her office and offered her services, Julia had stopped to think

about exactly how much those services were costing. Not in terms of dol ars

but in terms of Olivia’s wel -being. Everyone was always very solicitous of her,

asking her to do her thing only when there was no other choice, knowing it had

to be awful. But nobody realized just
how
awful—that it could be kil ing her little

by little. Nobody but Gabe Cooper, whom she hadn’t even known a week ago.

She eyed the man, watching him dump a bunch of printed-out pages onto

the conference table. He’d just arrived, loaded with files, looking grim and

determined.

The first question he’d asked had been about Olivia. Julia let him know she

was home, sleeping. The second was whether they’d help him, since he’d

been ordered to go home and stay away from the investigation into his

partner’s murder. Standard operating procedure, she knew.

And not damned likely to happen. No more than she’d stayed out of

Morgan’s.

Quickly introducing Gabe to Aidan, whom he’d not yet met, she asked, “So

what have you got?”

“I think I’ve found our boy,” he said, tapping a printout on the table. “I did just

what Ty must have done: dug into the noncustodials. I used the dates we had,

rough information about the victim and the names Zachary and John.”

He had made copies of a basic info sheet, and he dealt them to everyone

sitting around the table. “John Zachary Traynor. Only child. Kidnapped by his

mother at age three.”

He told them what he’d learned so far, which hadn’t been much beyond that,

adding, “I had more to go on than Ty did—he didn’t even have the name John

at first.” Dropping his eyes, he muttered, “Ty made sure we got the message.

He also made it clear that the boy was kil ed by his biological father—who I’ve

identified as John M. Traynor.”

Aidan looked away, one case haunting him, like always.

“I printed out his initial kidnapping case file, then had to leave before my

lieutenant decided to have me escorted out.”

“Did he put you on official leave?” Julia asked, wondering if Gabe stil had

his shield and weapon. It wasn’t unheard of for partners to be sent home for

an unarmed cooling-off period.

“No,” Gabe said, eyeing her from the other end of the table. Which meant

he was armed.

“Now we need to go from here, figure out whatever else Ty might have,

make the same moves he would have so we can find out who took him down.”

Julia nodded, reaching for the printout. “I’l read every page of the initial

report,” she said, knowing that, as a former cop, she had the best eye for it.

“Interviews, background on the divorce, see if there were any psychologist

reports on the boy. If the divorce was a bad one, there should have been

something in there about it.” Given what had happened, it wasn’t hard to read

between the lines and assume the mother had taken the child away from an

abusive situation. She’d had reason to fear for her son.

“I’m good with computers,” Mick said. “How about letting me have a crack

at finding out some more information about John M. Traynor.”

Gabe eyed him sharply, as if to ask whether this crack would be legal or

not. Mick merely held his gaze, not saying a word, neither admitting nor

denying.

“Be careful,” Gabe said with a nod.

“Why don’t I go use my laptop to run through al the crime databases,

unemployment and driving records, see if I can get a bead on where the

mother was while she was in hiding,” said Aidan. “The father had to have

tracked her down somehow. It might help to know how.”

Derek opened his mouth, though what he was about to say, she didn’t know.

Because suddenly a familiar voice cal ed her name. She sat up straight in her

chair, glancing over her shoulder out to the reception area. The new

receptionist had just left for the day, mumbling about the strange, frantic

goings-on here, and Julia wasn’t sure she’d be back tomorrow.

“Julia!”

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, rising to her feet, about to go find Morgan in

her office. But before she had to, he materialized here, in the conference

room.

“What is it?” she asked, seeing his nearly panicked expression. The other

men in the room al turned to look at her, but she ignored them. “Morgan,

what?”

“He took her. I tried to stop him, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do.

Then I tried to fol ow but lost him. But I know who he is. I saw the name of his

company on the van.”

“Wait. Who, what are you saying?”

“Olivia. He took Olivia.”

Julia staggered back against her chair, sending it spinning. Mick, who’d

been closest, reached out and grabbed her arm so she wouldn’t fal to the

floor. “What is it?”

Terror fil ing her, she caught Gabe’s eye from across the table. She told him.

And watched the man go from determined cop to utterly enraged lover.

She hurt.