Disarming Detective (9 page)

She was silent a little too long, but when he glanced over at her again, she said quickly, “It’s nice that you’re so close to your family.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Really?” How could anyone not be close to Ella? With her determination to help her friend, no matter how it impacted her long-awaited vacation? With her humor and warmth, despite the grisly things she saw in her job every day? With that quick smile that instantly lit her whole face, made her dark eyes sparkle? Man, she was...perfect.

The steering wheel jerked in his hand, and he corrected fast, but not before Ella shot him a quizzical look.

She wasn’t perfect, he told himself. She only seemed that way because he hadn’t had enough time to learn her flaws.

“Yes, really,” she said. “They don’t approve of my job.”

“Why? Because they think it’s too dangerous?” Logan slowed as they reached the outskirts of Oakville and turned slowly onto the highway. Cars honked and sped around him, since traffic was much heavier in the daytime. But at night, if a predator knew how to set an ambush, it was the ideal spot.

He and Ella were looking for any sign that Theresa had been forced to stop the car unexpectedly, like skid marks.

“I’m the black sheep,” Ella said, as she peered carefully out the car windows, checking both sides of the road. “I was going to stay in Indiana and be a teacher like my dad until Maggie was raped. Then, Scott, Maggie, and I—we’d been best friends since we were little—the three of us made a pact. We were going to join the FBI and stop guys like that from hurting anyone else.”

Logan slowed even more as he divided his attention between watching for skid marks and concentrating on what made Ella tick. “And your parents didn’t understand that?”

“They wanted me to stay close to home. They figured the FBI thing was just a phase. That’s what they call it—my ‘FBI thing.’ They figured I’d get over it and come back home. Live close to them like my younger brothers. Give them more grandkids and come over every weekend for dinner.”

Her shoulders jerked up, as if she was shrugging, as if it didn’t matter, but even though she was facing away from him, he could tell it bothered her.

“My parents are from Puerto Rico,” she explained. “My dad’s second generation, my mom’s first. My dad’s a professor. He got a job at a university in Indiana and we moved there when I was six. My dad’s parents came with us, that’s how close we all are. It’s like a family motto—don’t make big decisions without everyone’s input, and stick together. They just don’t get how I could leave, especially for a job like this. They moved to this little farming town close to the university, instead of the city where my dad works, because they wanted to live in the kind of small community where everyone knows each other.”

Logan imagined how hard it had been for her to tell them she was leaving.

“I went through the long application process, studied and trained like crazy to make it through the eighteen weeks at the Academy. I’ve been in the Bureau for six years now and still, the first thing I hear when I visit is, ‘When are you going to give up that FBI thing and come home?’” She blew out a heavy breath and turned to face him. “So, I visit less and less often.”

He started to tell her he was sorry, but she gave him a stiff smile and said, “But Maggie and Scott live close and they’re basically family, too. So, it’s not like I’m all alone in the world.” The smile shifted into something more real. “So, don’t give me that sad look.”

“Believe me, there’s nothing sad about you.” He frowned as the lights ahead grew brighter and he still saw no sign of foul play. As much as he didn’t like picturing someone forcing Theresa to slam her car to a stop, then grabbing her, they needed a lead. And Ella thought identifying how and where she’d been abducted would tell them a lot, help them find the killer. This had seemed the most likely option.

Ella looked discouraged, too. “Maybe he took her at the airport and then just drove out of there with her in the trunk? Some of those long-term lots get pretty empty at night. He could have left in her car and then come back for his own later.”

Her tone told him she didn’t believe it. “But you don’t think so?”

“Not really. It is possible, because I just don’t have enough information about what happened to Theresa to form a truly solid profile of her killer. But that’s what’s bothering me. It’s not an accident that I don’t have what I need. This guy is smart. He didn’t get close enough to make Theresa or Becky suspicious, he dropped Theresa in a place where her body would disappear. And he grabbed her when no one would notice she was missing until a day later. The airport parking lot seems too uncertain. If someone else was there, then he’d lose his chance and she’d be gone.”

“I’ve been thinking about the timing, too,” Logan said. “If he was stalking her, then he knew she was leaving that day. He knew we’d all assume she was home. Maybe he’d looked into her life and knew she lived alone and wouldn’t be immediately missed by someone waiting for her to come home from the airport either?”

Ella continued to scan the road, but her tone was grim when she said, “The timing is suspicious. Especially if he has Laurie right now. I know Kelly said they’d changed their minds and planned to stay a few more days, but if they’d originally planned to leave yesterday...”

“It’s the same MO,” Logan agreed.

There were officers looking for Laurie now, still trying to track her down, and Logan had wanted to spend the rest of his day on that, too. But Ella had convinced him that if questioning witnesses was going to lead them to Laurie, it would happen with or without him. But no one else was following leads on the serial killer angle, because although the media had jumped on the story, the rest of the police force still didn’t believe it.

So, instead of heading into town to question anyone who might have seen Laurie, he was searching the highway. But as the scenery turned from barren, closed-down factories on one side and marshland on the other to city lights, he knew there was nothing to find. If Theresa had been taken while she was on the highway, she’d stopped willingly. And he just didn’t believe she’d do that for a stranger.

He pulled off to the side, then did a U-turn and headed back toward Oakville. “What do we do now?”

Ella shook her head, looking troubled. “I don’t know.”

* * *

E
LLA
’
S
SHOULDER
BLADES
TENSED
, and her steps slowed as she walked along the long, solitary trail toward the back of the hotel. She strained to listen, and there it was again. The sound of a vehicle, its tires rolling slowly along the dirt road somewhere behind her. She hadn’t imagined it.

She whipped her head around, but she couldn’t see anything in the dim light. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon. The path behind her curved around a dense patch of trees, sending the road out of her line of sight. She could hear the car still coming, slowly. Too slowly, as if it didn’t want to be seen.

She should have let Logan drive her back to the hotel. Instead, after a long, frustrating day that had gotten them no closer to finding Laurie or figuring out how Theresa had been grabbed, she’d told him to go get some badly needed sleep. She’d wanted the chance to stretch her legs, walk off some of the tension that had been building inside her with every day that passed without getting any closer to knowing if this case was connected to Maggie’s.

During the day, the trail from the hotel was packed with tourists walking into town. Even at night, she’d seen enough people walking it that it hadn’t occurred to her it might be empty tonight. But it was late. Apparently late enough that everyone was either out at the bars or back at the hotel.

Ella picked up her pace, resting her palm along the butt of the gun she always wore holstered at her hip. Her pulse jumped as she looked over her shoulder and finally spotted the vehicle, which was rolling along at a walker’s pace, clearly trying not to be heard. It was a van, dark blue, and as she squinted, trying to see inside the vehicle, it slowed, easing slightly into the shadows of the trees.

Ella cursed and unholstered her gun. If this guy was planning to run her over, she’d have to shoot accurately and fast. And the only reason anyone in Oakville would be after her was Theresa’s case.

She tightened her grip on her weapon, aiming straight at the front windshield.

The van’s window rolled down and she darted off the trail where it would be harder for the driver to see or shoot her.

But he just called out, “This isn’t the way to Seaside Resort, is it?”

Ella still couldn’t really see him, so she kept her weapon raised, but her heart rate evened out. “No, this is the Traveler’s Hotel.”

“Thanks,” he called, obviously unable to tell in the dark that she had a gun. Then he rolled up the window and backed his van down the road and around the corner.

Lowering her weapon, Ella let out a brief burst of laughter. She’d been chasing killers so long she was seeing them everywhere. She definitely needed to finish up this case and go lie on the beach for a week.

Holstering her Glock, Ella walked faster, just a little too relieved once she’d locked herself into her hotel room. Flipping on the television, she changed into her pajamas and flopped onto the bed, ready for an evening of mindless sitcoms.

Before she could find one, there was a heavy knock at the door. Putting the TV on mute, Ella grabbed her Glock and stood off to the side of the door, peeking through the peephole.

“Logan,” she breathed, setting her gun on the table by the door. The fact that she’d automatically assumed it was the guy from the blue van, holding a shotgun, confirmed that she needed a break from rummaging around in the minds of demented killers.

Ella opened the door to find Logan staring at his shoes. “I thought you were going home?”

“Ella, I’m sorry. A reporter—” He looked up and stopped midsentence, blinking at her attire.

Suddenly way too conscious of the fact that she was standing in the doorway in a pair of boxer shorts and a tank top with no bra, Ella crossed her arms over her chest. “A reporter what?”

His gaze travelled slowly down to her bare feet and back up again and Ella felt her pulse quicken at the inspection.

Finally he looked into her eyes, and the intensity there seemed to push her backward until he was standing inside her room, the door shut behind him. Then he leaned against it, just watching her.

There was a foot between them, but Ella imagined she could feel his body heat wafting toward her. Her mouth suddenly went dry.

Then Logan took a step forward and the foot became an inch. If she took a deep breath, they’d be touching.

Ella tilted her head back, expecting his mouth to come down on hers, wanting it to. But instead, he raised his hand, cupping her cheek. Then he lowered his head slowly, so slowly, until his lips brushed hers.

The first gentle contact sent sparks of desire from her mouth to her fingertips and Ella pushed up on her tiptoes, gripped the front of his shirt with both hands, and leaned into the kiss. Then Logan opened his mouth and gave her exactly what she wanted.

With a low moan, she tugged him backward until her legs hit the bed and they fell onto it, his body covering hers. She jerked as the TV blasted on, then realized she’d landed on the remote.

Ignoring it, she slid her hands down to his waist, then up under the hem of his T-shirt, over the bunching muscles in his back, as his lips found hers again. One-night stands had never been her style, but she was completely lost as his tongue tangled around hers and his fingers dug into her hips.

“...an FBI profiler in Oakville.”

“What?” Ella mumbled against Logan’s mouth, trying to sit up as the words from the television penetrated her desire-fogged brain.

Logan glanced behind him at the TV, then let out a string of curses and pushed to his feet.

Instantly cold without his body covering hers, Ella shivered and stood, hugging herself. The TV screen cut to an image of a tall, blonde reporter thrusting a microphone toward Logan outside the police station as he walked out the door. “Detective, you suspect a serial killer is in Oakville?”

Logan looked blindsided as he ducked past the reporter with a “No comment.” But there was something more in the deep red that rushed up his cheeks as he hurried toward his Chevy Caprice.

Ella looked questioningly at Logan.

“Ella, I—”

On the TV, the reporter yelled after him, “Is it true the FBI sent a profiler to consult on the case?”

Logan didn’t answer, but the damage was done.

Ella sank onto the bed. Her secret was out. And if it got back to her boss in Aquia, there went her job.

Chapter Seven

“Theresa’s credit card information just came in.” Logan waved the pages at Ella as she entered the conference room where he’d just started working.

He’d been listening for his phone all morning, waiting for her to call and have him pick her up, but the call had never come. She’d walked to the station again. Probably because of what had almost happened between them last night.

As he watched her now, she turned away from him to get a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table. He felt amused by how poorly she hid her emotions. For some reason, as a profiler, he’d expected her to be expressionless most of the time. But Ella’s feelings were usually stamped across her face.

Any second now she’d turn back and tell him the same thing she had the first time they’d kissed. That it was an
anomaly
.
Which was not only stupid, but he definitely hoped it would be as untrue this time as it had been then.

To his surprise, when she squared her shoulders and turned around, she said, “If my boss gets wind of the fact that I’m here without permission, he’s going to call me back to Aquia.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and he suddenly noticed the deep circles under her eyes. She’d been up worrying about this, he realized. He wished she’d let him stick around and distract her instead.

The thought sent a powerful flash of desire through him. It made full-color images of Ella in her little pajama shorts and tank top blast into his brain. Fantasies of her pulling him down on top of her like she had last night. But then he pictured them continuing instead of being interrupted. He pictured her legs wrapping around his waist, her hands in his hair. Her voice, husky with passion, whispering his name.