Head Start (Cedar Tree #7) (10 page)

Reluctantly, I pull his keys from my pocket and hand them over. In no time, the engine is running and heat is flooding the cab. Once again, the drive is silent and this time, because I’m sitting on the side of his injured hand, there is no handholding.

It’s not until he pulls into my driveway that I remember I wanted to try calling my sister again, but they’ve probably already hit the sack. It’s a little past eleven and they are scheduled to embark at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Not going to call them now. At this time of night, it’ll only freak them out and I don’t want them to have a bad sleep their last night on terra firma. As long as she’s out on a cruise, there isn’t much trouble she can get into. Right?

“I’m gonna head home,” Neil says as he pushes open my front door. “Been a long day, and I’m beat. Besides,” he mutters as he backs me against the wall beside the front door, bracing my head with an elbow on either side. “The plans I had for tonight will have to wait a little longer now that I don’t have full use of my hands. I’m gonna need them both for what I have in mind.”

How a smell that is part hospital antiseptic can be so appealing, I don’t know, but on Neil it most definitely is. Of course his proximity and the soft lull of his voice have something to do with that. Not to mention his message. There’s that.

Before I have a chance to string together a few coherent words, he rattles my brain even further with a soul-scorching kiss. By the time he pulls back, I’m literally gasping for air. The man can kiss, and with each one I feel myself slipping further and further under his spell.

Holy tater tits.

N
eil

“H’lo...”

“You up?”

I run my hand over my face, immediately pulling back when the odd texture and biting sting in my palm hit me. Right. I forgot about that. I carefully peel back my eyelids. Damn, it’s bright outside. A quick glance to the alarm clock on my nightstand tells me I slept a hole in the day. Not surprising, given that I didn’t fall asleep until well past three this morning. I’d come home after dropping Kendra off, a feat that cost me a considerable amount of discomfort, since I was hard as a fucking post. Ever try to drive straight when you have a fully torqued NASA rocket trying to poke a damn hole in your jeans because it wouldn’t bend? Not fucking easy.

Still, I made it home in one piece and figuring I wouldn’t sleep, I flipped open my laptop. I’d spoken briefly with Gus earlier yesterday to put a bug in his ear about the douchebag Kendra had found online. Of course, Gus had felt the need to remind me to keep an eye on Kendra, as if I wouldn’t.  After hanging up, I snooped around Facebook a little and managed to find two of the three unaccounted for Durango area missing women. When I found a link through their accounts with some of the popular dating sites, I was surprised at how easy it was to hack into their profiles. Neither woman had protected their Facebook account very well, and once there, it wasn’t hard to figure out how to access all their information. By that time, my eyes were hard to keep open and I finally rolled into bed. Painful hard-on long forgotten.

“I’m up, I’m up,” I finally answer Gus.

“Good. Get yourself ready and come down to the diner. We’re having a breakfast meeting. Gomez is here.”

I’m in and out of the shower in a matter of minutes despite the plastic bag I had to duct tape over my hand. About ten minutes after my call with Gus, I walk through the kitchen into the diner. A glance at the large station clock shows almost ten o’clock. Seb is just serving plates of eggs and bacon to Gus, Damian Gomez, Joe and Mal, who are sitting at the large round table in the corner. The rest of the diner is empty, the Closed sign still on the door.

“Sit,” Seb says, indicating an empty chair. “I’ll be right back with yours.”

“Coffee?” Gus asks, holding up a large thermos that was sitting in the middle of the table. I turn over one of the clean mugs in response. “What the hell happened to your hand?” Gus points at the bandage.

“Broke a glass. Had to get some stitches. Nothing a solid dose of caffeine won’t fix.” I wave the still empty mug.

“Good. You’ll need it. They just found another body early this morning. The twenty-nine-year-old pharmaceutical rep. Damian came straight from the scene,” he says as he pours the hot black liquid.

I take a decent-sized gulp of the coffee, barely noticing it burn my mouth. I have a feeling I’m going to need all the help I can get to stay sharp today. That’s why, when Seb shows up with my bacon and eggs, I dig in while listening to Damian’s briefing.

“She was found in a ditch off the road about a mile up from the Mesa Verde park gate by an early morning road crew checking for wildlife carcasses. Coroner arrived at the same time I did and did a preliminary examination of the body right there. Same carvings on the back, signs of asphyxiation, but also some evidence of injuries inflicted over time. There wasn’t much more he could give us without a proper autopsy, except for a general time frame. She’d likely been there between forty-eight to seventy-two hours. A slight difference with this one from the other three victims is that she went missing two weeks ago, while the other three were killed shortly after their disappearances. It looks like our unsub kept this woman alive for two weeks before he killed her. He kept her somewhere.” Obviously stressed, Damian runs a shaking hand through his hair.

“What’s her name?” I put my fork down a little too loudly, but it always irks me how victims of crime seem to lose their identity along with their life. She was a person. Someone’s child, or perhaps even someone’s parent. People missed her.

“Sorry?” Damian looks up a little confused.

“Our victim, the woman you found, what was her name?” From the corner of my eye I spot Mal lowering his head, a smile tugging at his mouth, as Damian rummages through his papers.

“Tracy Poole, she was reported missing by her sister when she didn’t show up for a baby shower she had organized. Was last seen at Walgreens.”

“Thanks,” I simply say, having made my point. I understand that for people like Damian, sometimes the only way to get through the day is to maintain an emotional distance. We don’t have the kind of constant exposure to violent crime like he does. A name and person behind the victim motivates me to work harder, look further and dig deeper.

While I turn back to my breakfast, Damian continues to catch us up on the investigation, taking care to mention the known victims by their first names. I look up at the mention of my name.

“Sorry?”

“I was checking if there was any way you could link up with my office from here. Agent Greene—Jasper—is working on the victims’  social network and Internet histories, but with the possible number of victims we have, he can barely keep up.” Damian turns to Gus to further explain. “I’ve cleared it with the head office. We’re thin on technical support as it is, so convincing the powers that be to put together a task force was an easy one. Contract and conditions same as before.” With that, he shoves a thick document over to Gus.

I guess we’re officially on the job.

K
endra

The fresh, crisp, morning air smells like spring.

It hits me as soon as I open the door to the back patio. A gorgeous stark blue sky greets me and the sounds of the neighborhood slowly coming alive on a Sunday morning put a smile on my face. After living in an apartment building in the middle of a relatively noisy town for years, the thought of enjoying my morning cup of coffee surrounded by the sounds and sights of nature was very appealing.

I scoot back in to don a sweater to ward off the morning chill and the moment the coffeemaker stops its gurgling, I arm myself with the largest mug I can find, a book and my cellphone and head out. The patio holds a large wooden lounger, which will be fantastic once the weather warms up, as well as a utilitarian picnic table. I chose the last. With a sip of the hot coffee, tugging the sweater a little tighter around me, I sit and breathe in deep.

I slept surprisingly well. After Neil left me hot and bothered in the hallway last night, I thought for sure I’d have another sleepless night ahead. Amazing what a hot shower and an orgasm can do for relaxation. I feel only a little guilty for having used him to visualize while aiming the showerhead in a pulsing stream to my clit. With my eyes closed, his taste still on my lips and his head imagined between my legs, I was groaning out my release almost instantly.

A harsh ringing has me jump and slosh hot coffee over my hand.
Darn
. That hurts. I wipe my hand on my yoga pants while snatching up my phone with the other.

“What are you up to?”

I was half expecting Neil, so it takes me a minute to place the voice and the instant I do, I feel the hair on my neck stand up.

“Lars? Look, I thought I’d been cle—”

“I left you flowers. Did you not like them?” The question sounds almost like a dare. There is an edge to his voice I don’t like.

I stand up from the table, with my heart racing in my chest. “They made me feel uncomfortable,” I admit honestly. “How did you know where to find me?” I try to keep my voice steady as I scan the brush and trees around me, as if he could jump out at any minute.

“Not that hard to figure out. You left the address for me to find on one of your maps. I was hoping to surprise you.” His tone becomes a bit petulant, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I assure you that was unintentional. I’m sorry if it gave you the wrong impression. I’d prefer if you didn’t call me again.”

“Don’t hang up, please! I’m sorry if I overstepped. I thought I was doing something nice. I was hoping I could change your mind about maybe going for a hike.” His voice is now smooth and cajoling, but I’m not having any of it.

“I don’t think so. I’m sorry.” With that I end the call, quickly gather my things and head inside, closing and locking the door behind me.

“Everything all right?” Neil answers his phone on the third ring. “Kendra?”

“Yes, well...maybe. I just got a call from Lars, and—“

“Lock up,” Neil barks, cutting me off mid-sentence. “I’m on my way.” Without another word, the connection is broken.

Immediately, the phone starts ringing again with an unlisted number. Without answering, I turn off the sound and lay it upside down on the counter. On an impulse, I yank down the blinds in the kitchen and stand there, clutching my coffee until I hear the beep of the touch lock on the front door and Neil stalks in. It had taken him less than five minutes to get here.

“Kendra!” His voice booms through the house.

“In here,” I offer, peeking around the doorway to find not only Neil, but Malachi and the FBI agent in the small hallway as well. The moment Neil spots me, he bridges the distance and draws me in his arms, tucking my head under his chin.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

From the corner of my eye, I watch both of the other men walk around my space. “Yes,” I tell him, self-consciously taking a step back from him. “Hey,” I say to Mal, when he throws a smile my way.

“Talk to them,” he says, indicating Neil and the other man with a chin lift. “I’m going to check outside.” And he disappears out the back door.

“Where’s your phone?” the dark-haired, olive-skinned and intimidating third man asks.

“Pup,” Neil draws my eyes back to him. “This is FBI Special Agent Damian Gomez. I think I mentioned him before. And Damian,” his tone is much sharper when he addresses the guy,  “please meet Kendra Schmitt.”

I almost smile at the stare-down taking place in my hallway between the two. I have to admit, it’s more than just a little flattering that Neil should throw down as my protector. Even from bad manners. Apparently Agent Gomez knows it too, since he’s the first one to lower his gaze.

“I apologize,” he says, his voice much softer than his initial bark, and something tells me this man could be devastatingly charming if he tried. “It’s no excuse, but it’s been a long day already. Please call me Damian.”

I take his words to mean something more than just the passing of time, since it is only now coming up on eleven in the morning. The stress is evident on his face, so I’m guessing that despite the fact that the day is only a few hours old, they have been unpleasant ones for him. That causes a chill to run down my spine. I reach out my hand, which he shakes with a polite little head nod.

“Phone’s on the kitchen counter.” I point in the right direction when he lets go of my hand. “I turned off the sound.” As Agent Gomez—Damian—walks into the kitchen for my phone, Neil’s arm comes around my chest and pulls me back into his.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he whispers in my hair.

I lift my hand to hold on to his forearm, the feeling of vulnerability quickly disappearing. “Okay. I’m okay ... now,” I add, with a little squeeze of my hand. “But isn’t this a bit much?” I point in the general direction of the kitchen. “I mean, he gave me the heebie-jeebies but you come running like he had a knife against my throat.” I try to joke away my discomfort, but Neil doesn’t seem to think it’s funny.

“Don’t fucking joke about that,” he lectures, making me feel about a foot high.