Dangerous Kisses (14 page)

"No, Jake. Stop running. It won’t go away."

"No, but I won’t have to drag up all the gory details."

"Maybe that’s the only way you’ll get past it, whatever it is."

"How do you know there’s anything more to this than annoyance?"

"I’m a reporter. It’s my job to notice things. And what I saw in your eyes that day wasn’t annoyance. It was disgust and the desire to throw me out on my ass."

Would it help to get it out in the open, to confess his festering guilt? He loved her, yes, but could he trust her? And would she look at him differently after he shared the truth?

But she didn’t budge from her spot, and her probing gaze refused to waver. She was persistent in every task she undertook, but that persistence was now cloaked in something tender and healing. Was that love staring back at him?

Could she love him, a hard, no-nonsense cop who’d given her little reason to feel any type of affection for him? Was she just as scared to tell him as he was to tell her? And how would he react if she did?

One thing at a time, Radley.

He retreated and sank onto the couch, let his head fall back as he closed his eyes. He allowed the images and memories to come, the ones he usually fought so hard to bury. The couch gave under her weight as she sat on the opposite end, not touching him. Her astute instincts at work, she’d evidently sensed he needed the disconnect if he was to head down the road toward his past.

The first of it came out riding a deep, soul-ripping sigh. "I was a new cop when I met Jackie Gardner. She was a reporter for the
Courier
then. I guess you were probably still in college. I’d been on the force less than a year when we got a missing child case. We approached it like we normally do, constructing a timeline and interviewing the parents. So many times, it’s one of the parents involved. But these parents checked out, and we started interviewing neighbors.

"Krissy Jacobs was five. She disappeared from her bedroom during a night in June. She was on the top floor, but someone had come in through the screened window and snatched her without a sound. Her parents were in the room directly across from hers and they didn’t hear a thing."

Jake stopped a moment, swallowed hard when he remembered Krissy’s parents, her mother sobbing uncontrollably and her father sitting stunned at the kitchen table. Both of them blaming themselves.

"After several interviews, we began to suspect a neighbor. He lived alone and had a history of mental illness and petty crimes.

"The press jumped all over the case. Krissy’s picture was splashed across the front page every day. Everyone was screaming for us to catch the kidnapper before he got to any more kids. It was summer, and people were afraid to let their kids go out and play in the yard.

"Jackie and I had become friendly. I was a lot more naïve and less jaded back then. She was pretty, and I was young with raging hormones. We went out a couple of times, to dinner after work. She reeled me in like the brainless fish I was."

"What happened?"

"At first, we talked about stuff other than work. Now I know she was building up my trust." He snorted at how stupid he’d been. "She casually began talking about work, then asked me about mine, general stuff at first. But she gradually got more specific until she finally got what she’d been after the whole time — the name of the prime suspect.

"I felt like I’d made a big mistake as soon as I revealed it, but there was no taking it back. I asked her to keep that part under wraps until we found the guy. He’d disappeared, and no one knew where he’d gone."

"But she printed it."

"Yeah. If you look on my back, I’m sure you can she where she stabbed me. It was quite the buzz how she’d gotten a piece of information no other media outlet had been able to squeeze out of the department. It didn’t take long for people to figure out where the leak had come from. I caught all kinds of hell, and deservedly so. I think the only reason I didn’t get the boot was

because my father had been so well respected. I got the worst hours, worst pay and the disgusted stares of my fellow officers for at least two years after that. And I didn’t complain once. Nothing they could do could make me feel worse than I already did."

He clenched his fists, the anger rushing through him like it had the morning he’d seen Jackie’s article on the top of the front page.

"What happened to Krissy?" Sydney asked, a slight tremor in her soft voice.

He looked over at her, touched by the compassion in her watery eyes. "He killed her. He saw his name in the paper and killed her. He raped her, then threw her off the top of Fall Creek Falls."

His voice broke, and he swallowed and blinked away the urge to cry. "I hope you never have to see anything like that." He wiped an escaped tear from her cheek.

She wiped at her other cheek. "What happened to the man who killed her?"

Jake’s jaws clenched, and a cold chill scoured his spine. "The bastard killed himself. After he threw Krissy over the falls, he jumped. I think that was the worst part, that even in death he was lying right beside her."

"Oh, Jake." She scooted toward him, then took him in her arms. "I’m so sorry."

His eyes burned with unshed tears. She’d had nothing to do with it, and here she was apologizing. He hugged her close to him, rubbing his hand up and down her arm and planting gentle kisses atop her silky hair. By comforting her, he soothed himself. It was strange how relieved he felt to have the story out in the open, to not have that barrier standing between them. The anger was still there, but it wasn’t the black, devouring beast it’d been.

"What became of Jackie?" she asked, her face pressed against his chest.

His body stiffened again. "That’s the part I’ll never understand. She caused that girl’s death as surely as if she’d been the one to push her over the falls, and she got promoted. Krissy Jacobs dies at the age of five, and Jackie Gardner begins her climb up the media ladder. She eventually moved on to some bigger city. I don’t know where, and I couldn’t care less."

"We shouldn’t be out here together. I don’t want you to get in trouble."

"We’re okay. I’m more experienced now. They know I’m a good cop."

"Has anyone said anything?"

"No." He’d gotten a couple of hard stares, but he’d stared right back. He was older, wiser.

Sydney didn’t speak again for several seconds. "I’m not like Jackie," she finally whispered, her words sounding desperate in their need to convince.

He kissed her forehead. "I know that now."

The gentle kiss led to more passionate ones. They clung to each other for support, as if they both needed to touch and be touched to prove there was life, beauty and pleasure in a world filled with people who could kill and defile without remorse.

They gravitated toward the bed as if it were normal, natural. This time, they abandoned the frenzied pace they’d set before in favor of slow, seductive lovemaking. And he lost a bit more of his heart to the lovely creature who’d entered his life when he’d been sure he was immune to lovely creatures.

She kissed and stroked and loved him as if she could erase the past, free him from the images that had plagued him for so long, ones he’d let fester instead of dealing with them.

After they’d reached fulfillment, they lay entwined in each other’s arms.

"It wasn’t your fault," she said. "It was Jackie’s, the killer’s, but not yours."

His heart swelled at her kindness. When he started to protest, she rose up on one elbow and placed her delicate finger over his lips.

"Don’t. Don’t walk around anymore with this misplaced guilt. You made a mistake, sure, but you have to let it go. You don’t know whether he would have killed her anyway. He probably would have."

"But we might have been able to get to him before he did if I hadn’t opened my big mouth."

"Perhaps, but you’ll never know. And you can’t live your life wondering about the what-ifs. We make mistakes, but if we learn from them it’s okay."

He smiled at her. He couldn’t help it. "Are you sure you didn’t study philosophy or psychology in college?"

"You’re a good man, Jake, a credit to your parents and the police department."

He pulled her face down to his and kissed her with all the fullness threatening to burst from his heart.

With her head resting on his shoulder, Jake drifted toward sleep, more content than he’d been in years. He was floating on that plane of semi-consciousness when she whispered in his ear.

"I love you, Jake."

****

He eased a few steps backwards into the trees as a boat passed. Once the vessel disappeared around a jut of shoreline, he raised the binoculars back to his eyes. He’d watched from different vantage points for several hours, beginning the previous afternoon, throughout the moonlit night that had allowed him a ghostly image of the cop’s boat, and now as the first rays of sunshine cast the bobbing craft in shades of orange and yellow.

The vein in his temple throbbed. It’d been hours since the two of them had descended into the boat’s cabin, hours in which that filthy cop had touched her, tainted her body before he could take his own pleasure. Of course, she’d have to pay for her weakness, giving in to another of those supposedly attractive men. Why didn’t they learn? How many more would he have to discipline before they learned their lesson?

He lowered the binoculars and stared across the open water. How dare that cop take her and flaunt it in his face. He’d get his own lesson.

The increased flow of traffic across the dam told him it was time to leave. If he didn’t go to work, someone might start casting suspicion his direction. And he couldn’t be caught. He had too much left to do.

His gaze slid back to the boat. A flash of anger smacked into him, so potent it almost knocked him down. His body hummed with need. He’d have to find an outlet or he’d be in danger of exposing himself, of losing his fine grip on control.

Placing the binoculars into the empty tackle box and retrieving the unused fishing pole, he slipped back through the woods, looking to the casual observer like a fisherman going home after an early morning of angling. He smiled, confident that before another sun rose he’d feel much better.

Sydney woke with a start, not from fright but realization. In her dream, she’d confessed her love to Jake, only to have him pretend not to hear. She rolled over to find his half of the bed empty. When she slid her hand across the rumpled sheet, it was cool to the touch.

She closed her eyes. It hadn’t been a dream.

She turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. What should she do, pretend it hadn’t happened or talk to him about it, tell him she didn’t expect anything in return? Yes, she wanted there to be more between them, but didn’t expect it. After all, she’d told him that she was an adult and could have sex without commitment. The words rose up to choke her. If there were to be a real relationship, he’d have to make the first move.

She refused to be a clingy female, to go back on her word.

Sydney slung her forearm across her closed eyes, trying to remember exactly what had happened. She vaguely remembered whispering that she loved him, but she’d been drifting close to sleep when she’d said it. Would he think she’d been babbling or perhaps dreaming? Had he even heard her? She couldn’t be sure unless she faced him.

With her stomach somersaulting and her nerves buzzing, she slid from the bed and dressed in a clean sweatshirt and jeans. After tying her tennis shoes, she took a deep breath and climbed to the deck.

The cold wind smacked her as soon as her head emerged from the stairway. She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to fend off the early blast of winter. The air smelled like frost, cold and biting.

Despite the temperature, Jake stood at the railing with a fishing pole in hand. He glanced her way as he cast the line. The distance in his eyes told her all she needed to know. She’d said it. He’d heard her. And now he was in full retreat.

Determined not to show it bothered her, she said, "You must like fishing if you’re willing to brave this."

"I didn’t want to wake you. Not much else to do up here."

His words were polite, but they weren’t the gentle, warmth-laden words of a lover. Sydney swallowed against the growing lump in her throat.

"Well, I’m awake now, so feel free to come in where it’s warm."

Before her voice cracked and betrayed her, she hurried back down the stairs, hoping Jake would attribute her hasty retreat to the biting wind.

She strode to the refrigerator, berating herself for ruining the closeness they’d shared over the past couple of days. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She pulled the egg carton from the fridge, then popped two slices of bread in the toaster. Why couldn’t she have just kept her mouth shut? But she’d felt so close to him the night before, closer than she’d ever been to a man, and she’d have sworn on the Pope’s Bible that he’d felt the same.

Maybe he did feel affection, but there was a big leap from affection to full-fledged love.

Her nose twitched. Smoke. She whirled toward the toaster. Damn it, she’d burned the toast. She pulled the black slices from the toaster and tossed them into the sink, torching her fingers in the process.

She turned away from the bread and opened the egg carton. But her clumsy hands fumbled and dropped half the box’s contents. The eggs splattered across the floor and her shoes. She let loose with a string of curse words. In the middle of her tirade, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Jake stood at the bottom of the stairs staring at her with a sorrowful look on his face. She watched as he crossed the cabin to take her in his arms, confusing her even more.

She pulled away and bent to untie her shoes. She took them to the sink and dabbed at the egg yolk with a wet paper towel.

"I’m sorry," she said before she lost the nerve. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

At least he didn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about. "It’s okay. People say things in the heat of passion."

She opened her mouth to tell him that she’d meant it, but she clamped her jaws shut and held her tongue in check. Better to let the subject drop now that they’d given each other an easy out.

But having it out in the open only made things worse. After Jake made egg sandwiches and coffee, they sat in silence as they ate, neither looking at the other. The tension in the small cabin grew so thick, she thought she might suffocate. The frigid wind above almost seemed preferable.

She sighed in enormous relief when he received a call and climbed to the deck to talk. She washed the dishes, then flopped on the couch. She wished she’d thought to bring one of her hundreds of mystery novels. No, she wished she was home where she could come and go as she pleased, where she could get away from Jake long enough to regain some measure of composure.

Needing something to take her mind off her mess of a life and unable to concentrate when she tried to work, she flicked on the TV, hoping to find a talk show with people whose lives were more pathetic than her own. Instead, Donna Fratella’s face greeted her along with a Breaking News banner. Sydney increased the volume.

"Police have found what may be the latest victim of a serial killer who has been preying on the city’s young women for the past several months. Metro Police have confirmed that the body discovered early this morning at the Waving Pines Apartment Complex matched roughly the physical characteristics of previous victims Stephanie Mortimer and Maggie Field. If police determine this murder is the work of the same killer, this will be his or her third known victim."

Sydney’s hearing faded, returning to normal only when the morning newscaster moved on to another story. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and breathing proved difficult. She couldn’t move, couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.

Oh, God. She’d been so focused on herself that she’d never considered the killer would pick a substitute. He hadn’t been able to get to her, so he’d snuffed out the life of another young woman. Tears sprang to Sydney’s eyes as guilt washed over her in a painful, gut-wrenching wave.

Jake’s steps descended slowly down the stairs, but she couldn’t look at him for several seconds. When she did, there was no doubting the subject of his phone call. A haunted darkness filled his eyes, and his body seemed to shrink and tighten at the same time.

"It...it was supposed to be me," she said, her words a ragged sob ripped from the deepest core of her.

He crossed the room and sat down on the couch beside her. She cried and beat his chest. "He couldn’t get to me, so he killed someone else. It’s my fault that girl’s dead." Her body shook as she stopped her pummeling and sank against him.

"Shh." He held her tight and stroked her hair. "Don’t say that. It’s not true."

"Yes, it is. I’m the one he wanted."

He pulled away and framed her face with his strong hands, not allowing her to divert her gaze. "Listen to me. You’re the one who told me we can’t control what other people do. It wasn’t my fault Krissy Jacobs died, and it’s not yours that some sicko bastard killed this girl."

"But, Jake—"

"No. Don’t do this to yourself, Sydney. Trust me, it’ll eat you alive." He held her a few more minutes before speaking again. "I have to go in."

"I know."

Earlier, she’d longed to go home, but now all she wanted was to turn the boat away from her life and float away. But the Murder Squad would need Jake. If they had a prayer of catching this guy before he added victim number four, they needed all the manpower they could muster. And no matter what Bill said, she was back on this story.

****

Jake crushed the heel of his hand against his forehead, trying to banish the headache pounding inside his skull. The reports spread across his desk had begun to blur in front of his burning eyes. In the twenty-six hours since he’d dropped Sydney off at her apartment and made sure her guard was in place, he’d gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep, and all that had come while stretched out on the couch at the back of the Murder Squad room.

Adding weight to his fatigue were heavy doses of anger and guilt. Yes, he’d protected Sydney, but in doing so, he’d left an opportunity for the killer to strike another innocent victim.

He shook his head and tried to focus on the assertion he and Sydney had batted back and forth about how they shouldn’t feel guilty because of the cruel acts of others. But the guilt plagued him just the same.

Since the latest body had been found, he’d not had the opportunity to think about Sydney or their awkward personal situation. Every moment had been consumed with examining the crime scene where Jess Greene had been found, her apartment, interviewing neighbors, friends and co-workers at the Oak Beam Grille, notifying her family in Birmingham and poring over the files detailing the crimes against Stephanie, Maggie and Jess until his vision blurred.

Kevin plopped down at his desk across from Jake. "Man, you need to go home."

"I won’t do much good there."

"You ain’t gonna do much good here either if you don’t get some sleep. Plus, you need a shower. You look like you’ve been on a week-long drinking binge."

"You don’t exactly look like the belle of the ball yourself."

"Go on." Kevin nodded toward the door. "I’ll call you if anything changes."

Jake couldn’t muster the energy to argue further. He could use a long, hot shower and a few hours of rest in his own bed.

But the moment he stepped on board the boat, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Everywhere he looked, he saw Sydney. Sitting at the table, watching the horizon from the edge of the deck, lying beneath him in the tousled sheets.

He tossed off his rumpled clothes and stepped into the shower. He let the water blast him in the face, hoping to clear his mind. They’d not spoken since he’d returned to work, and perhaps that was for the best. A clean break would prevent her from becoming any more emotionally attached, and he could avoid the risk of telling her how he really felt.

But no matter how many reasons he listed why the clean break was the best option, he just couldn’t do it. He might not be able to give her a picket fence and golden-haired babies, but she at least deserved to be told why — and face-to-face.

Showered and wearing clean clothes, he headed for her apartment — and the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

****

Sydney wouldn’t have heard the knock if she hadn’t ended her phone call when she did. She’d been talking to both Bill and the paper’s publisher about her first-person account. The newsroom had been fielding call after call about her front-page article in light of the fact she evidently hadn’t been targeted next. What newspaper readers didn’t know as they read their morning papers and watched the early newscast was Jess Greene was a replacement for her.

The paper’s publisher overrode Bill and wanted her at least partially back on the story. She wasn’t to put herself in unnecessary danger, but he said the first-person accounts were powerful. AP already was picking up the story and putting it out on the wire.

At the second, louder knock, her heart leapt into her throat. She glanced out the window to find the Metro policeman sitting in his car, bored and probably counting down the minutes until his replacement showed up to relieve him.

Well, if he wasn’t worried by who was at her door, then she had no reason to be. When she checked the peephole, her heart thumped wildly again. Jake.

She tried to smooth her hair, but then scolded herself for worrying about her appearance. He wasn’t there to propose marriage after all.

When she opened the door, his fatigue struck her. The sag of his shoulders, the dark circles rimming his eyes, the tight line of his mouth. He’d probably worked nonstop since he’d left her the day before.

"Can I come in?" he asked, making her realize she’d been standing there staring at him.

"Yeah, sorry." Sydney moved back to allow him to step over the threshold, then closed the door against the cool outdoor air. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yeah."

She retreated to the small kitchen area, trying to calm her instinctive reaction to Jake — all jittery nerves and racing pulse. Even looking like he hadn’t slept in a week, he made her skin flush. She glanced to where he stood next to her patio door. If the wet tips of his hair were any indication, he’d just showered. She imagined the clean, soapy scent of him and nearly moaned in pleasure.

Jeez, get a grip.

She poured two cups of coffee, then strode back into the living room as if nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened between them.

"You look tired."

"Been working a lot." He took a sip of coffee, then looked up at her. "How are you doing?"

"Okay."

"I saw your article."

Sydney prepared for his anger, but it didn’t come. "I’m surprised you’re not screaming at me."

"What good would it do? It’s done."

She hated the disappointment she heard in his voice. "I needed to write it, Jake. I felt so helpless, and it was the only thing I knew how to do."

He nodded, like he understood the feeling, and Sydney felt like she was witnessing a miracle. In such a short time, both she and Jake had changed – but without losing their drive and passion to do the right thing. Hope flared that maybe they did have a future together. She watched him lift his cup as if it weighed a ton.

"Have you found out anything else, anything they’re not saying on the news?"

"Not much." He sighed. "We found an unopened chocolate in Jess Greene’s apartment in addition to the one on her body."

Sydney swallowed past the lump in her throat. "She was so young, so pretty. They showed her picture on the news, said she’d just moved here a couple of months ago."

"Yeah. Graduated from a community college in Birmingham and was working to save up enough money to start classes over at MTSU next fall."

"I’ve probably seen her. The Oak Beam Grille is only a few blocks from the paper. Becky and I go there sometimes for dinner."

"We’re checking out the residents of the area. Maggie and Stephanie worked within a couple of miles of both you and Jess." He shook his head. "But it might not turn up anything. This guy’s mobile. He takes the bodies to a different location after he kills them. He could live anywhere."