Hold Back the Dark (9 page)

Taylor’s rocking was now full-on frantic. Damn—this was just a colossal waste of time.

“Please, Taylor, help me understand what this means so I can help you.” Aimee held the drawing up in Taylor’s view.

Taylor stopped rocking and looked. Josh held his breath. Then she let out an enraged cry and ripped the drawing from Aimee’s hands. In seconds, it was just a pile of shreds on the floor and Taylor was clawing at her own face. Josh was around the table and had the girl restrained before her nails could do much harm, but the girl continued to twist and kick and shriek until two orderlies and a nurse with a hypodermic arrived.

J
osh took Aimee’s arm and steered her out toward the lobby. Her muscles were tense. She kept her focus on the door, waiting for the attendant to unlock it and let them out.

The door buzzed and Josh pushed it open.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

As she passed by, he caught a whiff of her scent, something light with a hint of citrus.
Down, boy.

They walked silently out of the lobby and into the parking lot. A light breeze lifted Aimee’s hair and Josh glanced up at the sky. It was starting to cloud over.

Aimee stopped at the curb. “Are you okay?”

It wasn’t
his
patient who’d gone apeshit. The full force of her concerned gaze hit him in the gut, but he needed to stay focused on what he’d come to find out. He cleared his throat. “Fine. How about you?”

She gave a short, tight smile. “I was looking for a reaction. I certainly got one.”

“True that. What the hell did it mean?” He was more convinced now that the girl had the capacity to be violent.

“It means that Taylor’s frightened. I think it also means that whatever happened to Stacey and Orrin is linked to whatever made them bring Taylor to me in the first place.” She shook her head. “I wish I knew what it was, or how it was linked.”

If they really were and this wasn’t some elaborate ruse on the part of a crazy teenager. “What are the chances that Taylor’s faking?”

Aimee’s eyes widened. “
Faking?
Faking a near catatonic state? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t think the question is very humorous,” he said, stepping off the curb so they were on eye level. Lord, if those blue eyes could twist him up when she was looking up at him, he’d had no idea what being face-to-face with her would be like. His chest was as hot and tight as if he’d just run a superfast 5K.

“You’re right,” she said, glaring at him. “It’s not funny. I can’t believe you’d even consider it.”

The spark was back in her eyes. Damn, he really liked that fire in her. “It’s my job to consider it. I’d be irresponsible not to pursue it as a possibility. I’m not accusing her of anything; I’m only asking your professional opinion, especially as someone who knows Taylor well.”

That gave her pause. He watched as she bit her full lower lip, and wondered what she’d do if he offered to take over the task. He was sure he could do a great job.

“No,” she said. “I don’t believe she could fake this. This is real. That child is scared literally out of her mind. I told you before. Taylor’s not violent.”

Josh’s jaw dropped. “She just tried to claw her own face off! How can you say that?”

“She was expressing her fear and rage in the only way she could. Besides, her violence has always been directed at herself, not anyone else.”

“Can you say that with one hundred percent certainty, doctor? Could you really say that anybody absolutely is not violent? You and I have seen too much of human behavior to think that a person wouldn’t have a breaking point. You yourself said that Taylor was in a fragile state. Maybe something pushed her over the edge, just like you pushed her over the edge today.” The kid could have done it; Josh was sure of it. There was a lot of anger in that little package.

A shadow flashed over her face; his question clearly bothered her. “Something definitely pushed her over the edge, but not to violence against another person.” Her words were firm, but her tone didn’t have the confidence it had had a moment ago.

“She was pretty violent with herself,” Josh pointed out. It wasn’t just today’s episode. It had taken a certain amount of violent effort to get enough blood to decorate the walls. Could those cuts mask scrapes on her arm from her mother’s attempts to defend herself?

“That’s typical of female victims.” Gannon sounded confident again. “Men are much more likely to strike out when they’ve been a victim. Women—girls—are more likely to turn that anger inward into self-destructive behavior.”

That was an interesting point, and possibly another lead to follow. “What exactly do you think Taylor was a victim of?”

Gannon shook her head. “I still don’t know. I’ve been going over my session notes and if there’s something there, I’ll find it.”

“What about the symbols?” Josh pressed.

Gannon rubbed at her forehead with her thumb. “I’ll keep looking. You’ll be the first to know if I figure out how it relates to what happened to Taylor’s parents.”

Josh’s eyebrows rose. That last statement was carefully put: she’d committed only to sharing information if it pertained to the case. Shrinks—couldn’t trust them farther than you could throw them.

He gestured toward the parking lot and they walked to her car, his hand at the small of her back. “Do you know anything about Taylor having a boyfriend? Someone her parents weren’t thrilled about?” he asked.

Aimee sighed and leaned against her car. “I know a bit.”

“I wish you’d mentioned that.” Just friggin’ perfect. What else did she know that she wasn’t volunteering? “Is there a reason you withheld that information from us?”

“Withheld that a rebellious teenage girl had a boyfriend her parents didn’t like? It doesn’t exactly sound like a news flash to me. Does it to you, Detective?” Aimee’s voice was just as sharp as Josh’s as she looked up at him.

Damn, he wished she wouldn’t do that. He was pissed at her; he didn’t want to go all weak-kneed and dreamy. He put his sunglasses on as if they would shield him. This woman had him twisted up in knots, and he wasn’t even sure whether to trust her or not. “I suppose not, but it would have been handy information to have. Do you have the boy’s name?”

Aimee gritted her teeth. “No. Taylor always referred to him by a nickname. I can look it up if you’d like. I’m sure I have it in my notes.”

“We have the nickname. It’s Flick, in case that jogs anything in your memory.”

Aimee shook her head. “That was how Taylor always referred to him. I didn’t press for his real name; I didn’t want to make him more of an issue than he already was. Flick was more of a symptom of Taylor’s core problem than the actual problem itself.”

“If you come across anything that would help us find him, I’d appreciate your calling me.” Josh watched while she unlocked the car and got in.

“Is he a suspect?”

Josh wasn’t falling into that one. “We have some information that indicates this Flick was with Taylor that night. We need to check it out.”

“But you think he might have seen something?” she pressed. “Or be involved somehow?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that a couple of teenagers decided to take out one set of their parents.” Especially hopped on hormones and X.

Aimee shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. Taylor may have been trying to make her mother’s life hell, but they were way too connected. She wouldn’t have allowed her security blanket to be torn away like that.”

“Then the best way to prove that is to talk to the kid. You sure you don’t have anything?” Josh leaned down to look into her eyes, searching for answers in those blue depths.

“I can’t help you.” She stared back at him, unblinking.

“We don’t have to be on opposite sides here, Dr. Gannon.” He leaned closer to her. He couldn’t help it.

“I hope you’re right about that,” she said, lifting her chin.

Their lips were so close, it took almost nothing to brush his mouth against hers, to caress the softness of that full lower lip with his own. It was only a brush and only for a second, but fire raced through Josh’s veins. He pulled back and searched her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide. Her breath came in short pants, smelling of cinnamon. That one brief taste of her had been intoxicating, but he needed more. He leaned back in.

She stopped him with her hand on his chest.

“Aimee,” he said, trying to read what was going on inside her head, inside her heart.

She fisted her hand in his shirt and pulled him to her.

This kiss was no delicate brush of lips. This time her lips parted under his and her head tilted back, allowing him to explore and tease, to taste her sweetness.

“Definitely the same side,” he murmured against her lips.

“I’m not so sure,” she said, pushing him away. Still staring at him, she closed the door and started the engine.

Kyle nearly bit through his lip to keep himself from screaming. What the hell was Aimee doing? Who was that guy? Why was he standing so close to her? Why didn’t she move away? It was disgusting how she let him practically rub against her. Pervert.

How could she have allowed him to touch her like that? She wasn’t there for anyone’s taking, she belonged to
him
. He’d gone to jail for her. How much more would he have to do before she understood that they were meant to be together?

He had watched the whole interaction from behind the low shrubs on the hillside that sloped up from the parking lot. The guy looked like a cop. He had that walk and that way of looking around him all the time. Kyle had had to shrink down underneath his shrub to avoid being seen. That pissed him off. Hiding like that made him feel small, like he was a little kid again, hiding in his closet or under the bed. Hoping like crazy that his brothers wouldn’t find him. That he would be left alone at least for a little while.

He didn’t feel like that when he was watching Aimee, though. He felt more like a hunter, like he was waiting patiently for the deer to walk into the clearing. It had been so easy to follow her here. What a joke this place was—cushy digs for the crazy kids of the rich. This was probably where that patient of Aimee’s was put after someone offed her parents. Oooh, poor little rich girl has to be locked up in some hoity-toity spa.

He’d seen the girl when she’d come to therapy. He hadn’t known she was Aimee’s patient, but there was something about her that Kyle had found appealing. Maybe it was that she looked a little like Aimee with the black hair and the blue eyes—except Aimee’s hair was real, not dyed like the girl’s. This chick was nothing but a pathetic poser. She probably needed to be locked up.

Of course, they had said Kyle needed to be locked up and they had been wrong. That was a terrible place. He hadn’t belonged there at all. This place wasn’t anything like the hellhole they’d housed him in for all those months. Little Silver Snatch wouldn’t have lasted ten minutes in Vacaville.

Kyle returned his attention to the scene below. The guy was walking Aimee to her car now. He was
touching
her. He had his hand right on her back and she was doing nothing to get away. This would not do. No. It would not do at all.

The other one—Danny—had gone. Kyle was sure of that. There was no sign of his car anywhere near Aimee’s condo, and Kyle hadn’t seen him coming or going. He hadn’t met Aimee at any of the places Kyle had followed her to. So who was this new guy, and what the hell did he think he was doing, putting his filthy paws all over her like that?

Now the pig was kissing her! And Aimee was kissing him back! What the hell was going on?

Kyle was
not
about to have someone else move in on his territory. Was she willing to give herself to anyone who offered? Was she just another slut?

He would have to teach her. He would have to show her that he was the only one for her. He had almost done it before—he’d come so close. Then that stupid Danny had ruined all of Kyle’s plans. He nearly screamed again, just thinking about it. He’d had her. Had her right where he wanted her, and it had all been snatched away.

He shut his eyes and started to count to ten, trying to get the red to recede from his brain so he could think. He would get her back again.

He knew just how to do it, too.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what the hell had he done?

He’d kissed a civilian involved in a homicide investigation in a public parking lot. What was he thinking?

He
hadn’t
been thinking, obviously. At least, not with his big head. The little one was clearly thinking overtime.

Josh rubbed his face as he drove, flicking on the windshield wipers as the spring storm swept in and traffic on I-50 slowed. He resisted the urge to hit the horn. It was just a little water, people. Not a reason to slow to a crawl on a fifty-five-mile-per-hour road.

So Aimee Gannon was attractive. So she was just his type. So there was something about that measured control of hers that had him wanting to make her shudder with pleasure. He was an adult and a peace officer, for crying out loud, not a horny teenager.

At least she wasn’t a witness or a suspect. If she were, he and his happy dick would be in
big
trouble now.

He drove back to headquarters, strode past the news crew parked in front with a “no comment,” and vowed to focus solely on work.

Aimee gripped the steering wheel with both hands as she drove out of the parking lot. She wanted to press the accelerator down and streak away, wheels spinning and back end fishtailing. She fought the instinct down.
Breathe. Keep breathing
.

Had she really just let the detective who might be trying to make a case against her client put her in a lip lock in the middle of a parking lot?

Let
him? Hell, she’d practically dragged him into her car!

The car shimmied a little as the wind picked up. A storm was coming in. She opened the car window and let the cool air stream against her hot cheeks. She gulped in the rain-tinged breeze.

She’d go back to the office. She’d focus. She’d spend more time with Taylor’s file. Maybe something more would shake loose. The picture still wouldn’t come clear. How could it, when she was boiling over with lust? She had to get her hormones under control.

But sexual attraction wasn’t why her insides were roiling, or why she was gripping the steering wheel so hard. She was on overload. Taylor’s reaction had brought it all to a head, and it was all catching up with her now. The scene at Taylor’s house. All that blood. The symbols scrawled on the wall.