Don't Look Back (32 page)

Dakota headed down the hall toward George’s office. He had one of the nicer offices on the hall, one that had its own entrance and exit.

Knuckles rapped on the door and George called for him to enter. He looked around. “How’d you get lucky with this place?”

“You mean the office?”

“Yeah.” Blank walls stared back. Interesting.

“I requested a separate entrance. This was the only office on this floor that had one excluding the morgue and entrances into the halls. I felt like my clients might appreciate the privacy it afforded. This way they don’t have to worry about running into someone they know. Or the coroner bringing in a body.” His lips twitched. “That would totally freak a few of my clients.”

He could imagine. “Good idea. So where are all your plaques and pictures and stuff?”

George laughed and waved to several boxes in the corner. “Right there. In the time that I’ve been here, I haven’t had a chance to breathe, much less worry about hanging plaques.”

Dakota smiled. “Right.”

“All right, here’s what I’ve got. I treated four of the girls. I used to work at Eastside Psychiatric Therapists.”

“What made you move?”

“A doctor and I had a conflict on how to treat a client.”

“Conflict about what?”

“He wanted to release her, considered her cured. I thought the kid needed rehab. I . . . uh . . . said a few things to him I probably shouldn’t have, and then when the girl committed suicide, the tension around the office just got to be a bit much.” He shrugged. “I decided I wanted something different, applied for this position, got a contract with the police to do consulting work for them, and here I am.”

Dakota stood and walked to the window. Looking out, he saw Connor’s car, his own that he left here when he’d caught a ride with Connor, and various other vehicles.

And a light blue Honda.

30

The Hero laughed to himself. He was pleased with his plan. It was amazing that they were all really that stupid. He’d certainly led them on a merry chase all this time. When Dakota had bolted from the office, the Hero had stood silently and watched.

The FBI agent had pushed up his timetable a bit, but that was all right. He was quite ready for all of this to be over so he could move on. Yes, he had probably worn out his welcome in this town.

His mother’s contorted features played in his mind. Her twisted snarl that had so terrified him as a child now looked sad and pathetic when he brought her face forward from the back of his deeply buried memories. “I stopped you from all your partying, your drunkenness and evil ways, I did.” He had to whisper to her. No one else could see her, but the Hero could. Once, as a child, he’d gathered a flake of courage from a distant part of himself and asked her why she did the things she did. “Why, Mama, why do you do it?”

For once she hadn’t slapped him or shoved him or burned him with her cigarette. Or worse, broken a bone. She’d simply looked at him, the pain in her eyes visible even to him, a young boy of thirteen with more rage in him than anyone should ever have. “Because it numbs the pain. There’s always the pain and that helps it for a little while.”

“What would make it go away forever?”

His little sister had slipped up beside him and tucked her hand in his. At the age of ten, she was tall and slender with a toughness that impressed even him.

His mother gave a harsh laugh, looked at the two of them standing there, and pushed herself to her feet. “Death, kid, death would make it go away forever. But suicide is a sin, boy, and don’t you forget it. God don’t forgive people who kill themselves. So you just got to live with the pain.”

Then she gave him a shove and he lost it.

After he beat her, he cut her throat to make sure she was really dead. He’d hated her and loved her. He wanted her to hurt, to suffer the way he had, and in contrast he didn’t want her to hurt anymore.

And so he’d made her pain go away, he’d rescued her with the voice whispering in his ear. “Make it stop, make the pain stop. Make it stop.”

And so he had.

And found his purpose in life.

For a long time, he lived like everyone else. Only he and his sister knew his secret. No one ever connected him to the death, the
rescue
, of his mother, and he finished high school, made his way into college and medical school.

And then she had come along his senior year and he had to rescue her. Only he hadn’t killed her, he’d been careless, and she lived to report him. He went looking for her. Showed up on her doorstep. When she answered the door, the look on her face had been priceless.

He chuckled at the memory. “Hi, Rachelle, I’m back.”

At his words, her eyes flew wide with terror and she screamed while tears flooded down her cheeks.

She slammed the door in his face and he heard the locks click home.

The next day he read about her suicide in the newspaper.

He clicked his tongue. What a disappointment.

His next one, he’d done right, though. Then the next one, and the next.

And with his new identity, his new face, he’d eluded the law and become the man he was today.

He watched Dakota grab Connor from the lab, saw them consult in the hall, then take off.

No doubt to check out the blue Honda.

The car he’d parked there on purpose.

He checked his watch.

It was time.

Jamie leaned over the bones she’d been cleaning and placing on the table in front of her.

Dakota had retrieved Connor and they’d rushed out of there like the place was on fire. The only thing they’d said was to stay put. Then a police officer had shown up in the autopsy room and said he was there to protect her.

Something was going on and she didn’t like being left out of the loop, but she also had to get these bones, Cristina Bellini, ready for release to her family. And then head to Maya’s funeral. The bones had spoken. She’d died the way of the others. Cut marks on her ribs. No slash mark on the cervical vertebrae indicative of a slashed throat, but Jamie knew. She had no evidence, but he just hadn’t cut deep enough to hit the bone on this one.

Jamie never looked up when Serena left.

“Ma’am? Ma’am?”

Blinking, pulled from her work, her world, she looked up to see the officer gesturing toward the door. Someone stood behind him.

She walked over. “Oh, George, hi.”

“Hey, can I borrow you for a minute?”

She looked back at the bones. “Um . . . sure. What do you need?”

“I just need you to look at something on my computer in my office. I was doing some more of that geographic profiling and thought I’d get your input.”

“Okay, let me just get cleaned up here.” She stripped off the gloves and tossed them into the hazardous waste bin.

He looked at the officer. “I’ll take care of her if you want to just hang out here.”

“No sir, I’m going with you.”

George shrugged. “Whatever.”

Dakota checked the license plate and excitement ran through him. It was the same one. They had their car. Which meant their suspect was here, in the same building as Jamie.

Dialing her cell, he closed his eyes in relief and said, “Jamie, he’s here somewhere in the building.”

She pulled in a sharp breath. “Where?”

“We don’t know. Just stay alert. Don’t go anywhere alone, even the bathroom, okay?”

“I’ve got my bodyguard, Chet, here,” she said, referring to the officer Dakota had sent up to stay with her. “But how do you know it’s him?”

“His car’s in the parking lot. The license plates are a match.” “Okay.”

He could hear the fear in her voice even though she attempted to hide it. “I’m going to talk to Jake, then I’ll be right up and I promise I won’t let you out of my sight until this guy is caught.”

“I’ll be waiting. George wants me to see something on his computer, so I may be in his office, all right?”

“Just take Chet with you and sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“All right. I will.”

They hung up and Dakota clenched his fist around the phone. He so wanted this guy.
God, just let us get him, please?

He wanted Jamie free of the past, of her tormentor who kept turning up and knocking her world upside down. “I’m giving Jake five minutes, then I’m out of here. I’m going to be Jamie’s shadow for as long as it takes.”

“You know, Dakota, you might want to think about disappearing with her. It might be the only way she’s going to have a normal life and be safe.”

“You mean disappear as in new identities and such?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. And hopefully it wouldn’t be forever.”

Dakota nodded. “Already thought about it.”

The only response Connor made was to raise his eyebrows and nod. “Come on, let’s see what Jake has to say.”

“Five minutes, Connor, that’s it. Then I’m getting Jamie from Chet and taking her someplace safe.”

“You got it.”

Jamie followed George into his office. Chet stuck his head in the door and looked around. Then he stepped back outside. “I’ll be right here, ma’am. I’m going to keep an eye on the hall.”

She nodded and George told her, “Just have a seat over there by my laptop.” He snapped his fingers. “Hang on a second, I need to tell Chet something.” George slipped out and Jamie heard him murmur something to the officer before he pulled the door shut behind him.

She wandered over to look out of his window, telling herself to relax. Being alone with George didn’t freak her out nearly as much now as it had in the beginning. It just took her a while to feel safe around a man. George had become one of the team, a fixture around the building. She spotted Dakota in the parking lot talking with Jake. Connor had his head in the blue Honda.

Distracting herself, not wanting to think that the car right outside her might belong to the man after her . . . or that he could possibly be in the building, she scanned George’s bookshelf.

Psychology books, medical references, books on mental illness. A whole shelf dedicated to serial killers.

Jamie shuddered and clamped her arms over her stomach. She looked back toward the door. What was he doing?

Another look around. No pictures. Interesting. She realized she didn’t know George well at all. Nothing personal about him, anyway. They’d been so focused on trying to figure out who was after her, she hadn’t taken the time to get to know anything about the man.

The door opened and she spun around.

George smiled at her and shut the door once more.

Uneasiness curled in her. “Can you leave the door open, please?”

He stopped. Tilted his head. “Why?”

“I would feel more comfortable.”

Moving toward the desk, he motioned to his laptop. “Let me just show you this. It’s rather confidential and I’d rather not have Chet hearing it.”

A reasonable request? Maybe. Still she felt weird, anxiety clamping down on her. She shoved it aside and moved toward the door. “I understand that, but I’d prefer to keep the door open. In fact,” her pulse picked up speed, “I think I would rather just wait until Dakota and Connor can hear what you have to say, all right?”

For some reason her anxiety was reaching peak proportions. Her heart hammered in her throat and she reached for the doorknob. “Sure, Jamie, no problem, just take a look at this, and if you still want to wait for Connor and Dakota that’s no problem.”