Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 (9 page)

He glanced up, surprised by her prevarication.

Interesting. Had she not fared well in the love department? Not that he had any room to talk.

Curious, he said, “We may not have known each other for very long but I feel like in the short time we've worked together we've already gone through more than most partners.”

She paused, her hand hovering over the map. Her gaze lifted. “We're partners, working together on a case. There's no need for this to get personal.” With that she went back to work.

He watched her for a moment, not sure how he felt about the boundary she'd just laid down. He was usually the one to limit involvement when it came to women. But that was dating, not work related.

He'd never had a female partner. Not that he would have been opposed. Though the RCMP employed women, the percentage of females was only a quarter of the sum total of officers.

“You mentioned you had a partner once,” Drew said. “What happened to him?”

Sami straightened and met his gaze. Her eyes flashed with pain and anger. “He took a bullet meant for me. It left him lame in one leg.”

Ah. She carried guilt for his injury like a weight around her neck. “And that makes you angry.”

“Yes. Ian broke from his defensive position because he was worried about me instead of focusing on the job. If he'd stayed put, he would have stopped the suspect before he got a shot off.”

“You two were involved outside of the job?” He saw that his guess hit its mark by the way red crept up her neck and stained her cheeks.

“A mistake I will not repeat.”

“You have nothing to worry about here. Romance is the last thing I'm looking for. Been down that terrifying road once already.”

It was her turn to quiz him. She arched an eyebrow. “Bad breakup?”

“Divorced. I married my college sweetheart. The marriage lasted two years before she decided to upgrade to a doctor.”

Sympathy tinged her expression. “Ouch.”

He shrugged, hoping for nonchalance. The scar on his heart still stung. “Yeah, well, it was a lesson learned. Love doesn't last.”

She frowned. “I don't believe that. My parents and my grandparents have all had long marriages. And they'd all say it takes work.”

“So you are a closet romantic.” He wasn't sure why that pleased him. “Just not when it comes to the workplace.”

She appeared startled by his observation. “Yes, I'd say that's true. But I still don't like how
Romeo and Juliet
ends.”

He chuckled. “Noted. What happened between you and Ian after he was shot?”

“We broke up. He moved to Washington, DC, and decided to go to law school.”

“You didn't go with him.” If she had, Drew might never have met her. That thought didn't sit well. “Why not?”

“I wasn't in love with him. At least not enough to uproot my life to follow him.”

He liked her honesty. There was no pretense. She was who she was and made no excuses for it. She was the kind of woman a man hoped to find. The kind of woman he'd hoped to find. But unfortunately, their lives would never intersect after this case.

Once their partnership successfully brought down Birdman—and Drew was confident they would—he and Sami would go their separate ways. He would return to Vancouver and she would return to Portland. He pushed aside the hollow feeling invading him at the prospect of not seeing Sami after this.

As the scent of spicy meat filled the house, Drew concentrated on finishing his list. When he did, he stepped back.

The Canadian side of the map had twelve circles, including the victim in Vancouver and Becca Kraft's murder in Victoria, spanning the width of the country. His heart sped up.

Sami finished, as well. “Do you have any tape?”

He'd seen some in the drawer in the kitchen. He collected the clear tape dispenser and returned to the dining area. Sami held the map flat against the wall. He taped the four corners to the wall. They both stepped back to view the map as a whole. Twenty-two circles. Twelve on the Canadian side and ten on the US side. Drew swallowed back the bile that suddenly turned his stomach and chased away his appetite.

Sami picked up a red pencil crayon and connected the string of murders by their dates. A clear ping-ponging pattern marching across both countries emerged.

“Do you see it?” Sami whispered.

“Unfortunately, I do.”

Birdman's macabre killing spree alternated between cities in both Canada and the United States. And the frequency of the murders had steadily increased.

NINE

A
fter dinner Sami and Drew resumed their examination of the map. Sami had barely eaten Chet's meal. Though the chicken and broccoli dish was excellent, her appetite had deserted her. The beach bungalow grew colder. She'd snatched a colorful afghan from the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“If Birdman's first murder happened here in Victoria thirty years ago and the next one here—” Sami pointed to the map where a circle surrounded the city of Detroit “—that's a twenty-eight-year span between the Victoria murder and the Detroit murder.”

She turned to Drew, wanting, needing some clarity. His hair was mussed from running his fingers through the thick dark strands. Her own fingers itched to smooth the longer pieces of hair off his forehead. She pulled the blanket tighter around her as if that could somehow contain her fascination with Drew.

He stared at the map with a grim and horrified expression that mirrored her own feelings. The grisly killings spanned two countries and twenty-two different cities. With the time between murders rapidly growing closer together.

The acceleration corresponded to when Sami began to connect the crimes during the course of her investigation into her best friend's murder. The simmering anger that was never far from the surface heated her flesh. She shrugged off the afghan.

“What happened two years ago that set him off again?” Drew said. “And where has he been for twenty-eight years?”

“Maybe he's been in prison. We'll need to check our respective databases for similar murders to Becca Kraft's for the same time period.”

“Agreed. If he was released two years ago, that would explain the long time span.”

Frustration pounded at her temple. “But it doesn't explain why these victims? Why these cities?”

“And how is he crossing the border so frequently without being flagged? Our two countries share information for border control purposes.” He picked up his mug of coffee but didn't drink. “If someone came and went this frequently, an agent would be curious as to why, especially if the person has a criminal record.”

She appreciated his sharp mind. “Unless Birdman's job permits him to move back and forth without much questioning.”

They'd had this thought before. Seeing just how much their suspect traveled between their two countries alerted them to the need to revisit the discussion.

Sami grabbed a blank piece of paper from the notebook they'd brought from the police station. “A commercial vehicle could easily move back and forth with little hassle as long as the paperwork was legit. However, the time issue is problematic.” She wrote down “truck driver.”

“A convicted felon would be flagged at the border crossing. Unless he's going by an alias,” Drew pointed out. “We also need to consider train employees, bus employees and airline employees.”

Sami wrote those options down. She liked the give-and-take of working with him. “We've ruled out an airport baggage handler because that would require more than one suspect. I still maintain Birdman is acting alone.”

“I agree. No baggage handler.”

It would take a great deal of time and manpower to check every employee who had a legitimate reason for repeatedly crossing the border. She studied the map some more. “We can try to narrow down the type of profession we're looking for by excluding cities that don't have airports, train depots or bus service.”

“We'll need a computer to look up the various services and their routes,” Drew said. “Major airports are easier to pinpoint, but there are regional and municipal airports, as well.”

“I brought my computer,” Chet said from the doorway of the dining room. He'd insisted on doing the cleanup after dinner so they could get back to work.

Drew and Sami gave him the quick rundown on Birdman and his killing spree.

“It's kind of like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack, or in this case one murderer among a billion people,” Chet commented before going outside to get his computer from his truck.

Sami set down her pencil and picked up her phone to view the pictures she'd taken of Becca Kraft's file. “Why did Birdman point me to Becca Kraft's murder? And where does James Clark fit in?”

“Our mystery man,” Drew said. “Victim or perp?”

“Your intel pegged Clark as a family man and business owner. Most serial killers appear to be normal people living normal lives. So why not him?” She shuddered with revulsion. “We need more information about James Clark.”

“Agreed. The IBETs team's working to find him.”

Chet returned and set up his computer at the dining table. “Oops, forgot the power cord. Be right back.” He headed outside once again.

Something nagged at the back of Sami's mind. She read the case notes again. “Becca Kraft, age thirty-five was found strangled, her body mutilated postmortem in her hotel room. No particulates to identify the attacker. The medical examiner confirmed cause of death as asphyxiation.”

“The same as the others,” Drew said.

“Only in Becca's case, there were signs of sexual activity prior to death. That doesn't fit with Birdman's MO.” She yanked the clip out of her hair and shook her head. It felt good to have her hair unbound.

“No, it doesn't.”

She slanted him a glance. He stared at her hair. Self-conscious, she reached up to smooth it. “What?”

“I didn't realize your hair was so long.”

The appreciation in his voice made her blink. An odd flutter began in her tummy. She dropped her eyes to the report in front of her. Forcing herself to focus, she said, “Becca and her son were on vacation according to the police report.”

“Where was the kid at the time of the murder?”

She scanned the photocopies of the report and studied the handwritten notations. “According to the detective on the case, the boy was hiding in the closet when the police arrived. He was too traumatized to tell them anything.”

Drew moved closer to look over her shoulder. His breath tickled her hair. “Does the report give the kid's name?”

“No.” She turned her head to look at him. His face was so close. His mouth just inches from hers. Her heart skipped a beat. The craving to kiss him almost overwhelmed her. With more willpower than she'd thought herself capable of, she glanced back at the papers, grateful for her hair, which fell forward, creating a barrier that separated him from her line of sight. “He's only referred to as the Kraft boy.”

Why was her voice so breathless?
Get a grip!

It took effort to concentrate on the report. “Oh, here's something—Becca had a sister, name Lonnie Freeman, who took custody of the child.”

“Maybe Lonnie could shed some light on why her sister was murdered.”

“I'm sure if she could have, she would have years ago.”

Her hand stilled on the report as she felt Drew lift a strand of her hair and rub it between his fingers. She couldn't help looking up to watch his fingers slide over the ends of her hair.

He met her gaze. “I like your hair down.”

Not sure what to do with that bit of information, she nodded.

After a charged moment in which neither seemed able to look away, he let her hair fall back to her shoulder.

Chet came back through the door. “Got it.” He held up the power cord.

Drew moved away from Sami and cleared his throat before he began to speak, but his voice was still thick. “The boy could have told her something that she might not have realized was significant. It could be worth talking to her.”

Sami, too, had to give her head a mental shake. Transferring her attention from the potent man at her side was not easy. She sat up straighter and forced her focus back on the case. “I'll call my agency's tech guru in Portland. Jordon will track Lonnie down.”

“While you do that I'll check in and see if there's news on James Clark.” Drew took his phone and moved into the living room.

Sami called Jordon, the Portland FBI's technology whiz. She gave him all the information she had and within minutes Jordon had Lonnie's contact info. Lonnie Freeman lived and worked in Seattle, Washington.

Drew returned to the dining room giving his report. “Still no sign of James Clark. His employees filed a missing-person report.”

“Not the wife?”

“Apparently not. Any luck tracking down Becca Kraft's sister?”

“Yep, she's a nurse at Virginia Mason Hospital in Seattle.”

“Tomorrow we'll take the ferry over. It will be more expedient.”

“I've never been on a ferry,” Sami admitted.

“This time of year the water should be smooth,” Drew said. “We can stand on the deck and might even see orcas swimming in the sound. The season usually runs from April to September.”

“Cool.” She took the map off the wall and rolled it up, then put a piece of tape along the edge to keep it from unrolling. “I've always wanted to see a whale up close. Though I never expected it would happen while chasing down a serial killer.”

The thought of sharing the experience with him brought a heated flush to her skin. An image formed in her mind. Them together standing at the railing of a ship with a vast body of water stretching before them, his arms around her, buffeting her from the wind. Only in her version they weren't tracking a killer. They were just two people enjoying life together.

Reining in her runaway imagination, she forced herself to face reality because that scenario wasn't going to happen.

* * *

The next morning, Chet drove Sami and Drew to the ferry service in Victoria that would take them across the Strait of Juan de Fuca into the Puget Sound to dock in Seattle. Sami eyed the huge ship bobbing at the harbor and bit her lip. She hoped she didn't get seasick. This would be her first time on a boat this big. A kayak wasn't comparable.

At the customs gate, they showed their IDs and filled out the proper forms to board the
Victoria Clipper
, a large vessel capable of carrying over three hundred passengers.

Sami and Drew made their way to the upper observation deck. Though the sun shone bright, the breeze coming off the Pacific Ocean was cool.

Drew stood beside her. In his requisite white button-down shirt, he still looked like a banker, but she knew he was so much more than he appeared.
Gallant
, that was a word she would use to describe him. And he had the wound to prove it. Self-consciously, she touched the bandage on her head. Her own injury was healing nicely.

Soon the roar of the ferry engine drowned out the cry of the seagulls flying overhead and the large vessel pulled away from the dock. Within minutes the ferry picked up speed, cutting through the water at a rapid clip. The wind whipped Sami's hair into tangles. She gathered the mass in one hand and held on.

“Do you want to go inside?”

She had to read his lips to understand what he was saying. For a moment his mouth distracted her. She liked the shape of his lips, the strength of character in his jaw. The way he was so calm and steady. He was a good man. Solid and dependable. Honorable.

He arched an eyebrow, making her realize she hadn't answered his question. Appreciating his thoughtfulness, she shook her head and yelled to be heard over the wind and the engine, “Not yet.”

The view as they left Vancouver Island behind was spectacular. Against the backdrop of the mountains, Victoria, with its unique and beautiful architecture, grew smaller as the boat sped farther away. Spray from the boat's wake sprinkled her face with salty ocean water.

She would've liked to enjoy the scenery more but the rocking movement of the boat sent her stomach rolling.

Afraid she'd be sick all over the deck, she pointed to the stairwell leading down to the enclosed seating area. Drew followed as she headed down the stairs. They found two empty seats on the right side of the vessel near the large rectangular window. She flopped into her seat. Unfortunately, sitting made her nausea worse.

“You're turning green,” Drew said, concern in his voice. “You should have said you get seasick. We could have flown again.”

A plane sounded like a good idea now but for expediency's sake she'd thought the ferry a better option. Not so much now.

“I didn't know I would get seasick,” she shot back. “First time on a ferry, remember?”

“Put your head between your knees,” Drew instructed.

She did as he suggested. He rubbed little circles on her back. A nice distraction that helped—for about two seconds. She popped upright and clamped a hand over her mouth. “I'm going to be sick.”

Drew stood and pointed to the restroom. “There. Hurry.”

She scooted past him, waving him off when he moved to follow. The last thing she needed was him witnessing her humiliating herself. She hustled toward the restrooms, but of course there was a line.

“Excuse me, going to be sick,” she said, though her hand muffled her voice and she wasn't sure anyone heard her.

When no one moved out of her way, she abandoned the line and headed for the staircase leading to the front of the boat. A shadowy figure blocked the exit.

Sami ran up the steps. “Move!”

As the person stepped aside, she barreled forward, barely making it to the railing before she dry-heaved over the side of the boat. Apparently, her stomach wasn't willing to give up her breakfast so easily.

Once the worst of the nausea subsided, she took several cleansing breaths, filling her lungs with fresh air. Just as she was beginning to calm down, she was grabbed from behind and lifted off her feet, then tilted over the railing toward the churning water below.

Panic roared through her and echoed in her scream. The fight for survival kicked in. She clung to the railing to keep from going overboard, the metal tubing digging deep into her torso. She twisted to defend herself as her assailant continued to force her over the side of the boat.