Love you to Death (7 page)

She looked up at Trent. “Thank you for all you’ve done. I appreciate it, but I think it’s best if you leave now.”

“Why? So you can go and do something stupid?”

“I need to get cleaned up.” She moved toward the front door.

Trent didn’t take the hint. He stood in her path, unmoving. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

She grabbed his thick arm and pulled him toward the door to help get him moving. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“I see stupid runs in your family.”

Indignation flared hot inside her, making her words sharp. “Ashley isn’t stupid.”

“So, it’s just you, then?”

Elise refused to let his insult pull her in. He was trying to distract her, and she didn’t have time for it. “Please leave.”

Trent shook his head and opened the front door, giving her a disappointed frown. “Let the police handle this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“I’ve got pepper spray in my purse. I’ll be fine.”

“Pepper spray? You really think that’s going to help if you get in trouble?”

“Yes.” She had to think that. Anything else was too scary to deal with.

He stepped onto the front porch and Elise started to close the door. Trent slapped his hand against it, stopping her. “Did Ashley carry pepper spray?”

“Yes. Mom made sure it was a habit for us to have it with us all the time.”

“It didn’t help her, did it?”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Elise already knew that; she just didn’t want to admit it.

She shoved the door shut, blocking him and any further disturbing statements he might make. She had enough to deal with without his help, thank you very much.

And just to make sure he didn’t come marching in here again, uninvited, Elise locked the door and went to get dressed up.

Tonight, she had a part to play, and she was going to need all the time she could get to make herself look like she hadn’t been crying and sick with worry all day.

And then, once she poured herself into one of her sister’s daring dresses, shoved her feet into high heels and heaped on the makeup and hair spray, she’d be the perfect bait.

Tonight, she was going hunting.

Gary had watched the clock all day, counting the minutes until he could leave the bank and get back home.

He was looking forward to seeing Wendy again. And to tonight’s project.

Through the glass wall of his cubicle at the bank, Gary saw one of the tellers approach with another woman. They were headed right for him.

He clenched his jaw in frustration at the delay. It was just his luck that he’d get a customer two minutes before the bank closed.

Gary plastered a fake smile on his face as they came through the open doorway. “Mr. Maitland, this is Gloria, and she needs to make a change to her student checking account.”

“Thank you, Candice,” said Gary.

As the teller left, Gary got a clear view of the customer. She was young and moved with exceptional grace. Though her face wasn’t beautiful, she was pretty enough. And she was blond, just like Wendy. He’d always loved blondes.

Gary reached out his hand in greeting. The young woman put her hand in his and time seemed to slow. Her fingers were long and slim, her skin so warm and soft, it reminded him of Wendy’s hands before the accident. She always knew just how to stroke him, just how to touch him.

His erection was swift and startling, and it took him a moment to remember his manners. The slight tug against his palm reminded him to let go of the woman’s hand.

Before she could see his arousal, Gary eased himself into his chair. “Have a seat, Gloria,” he said. “I’ll be happy to help you.”

She sat, lowering herself to the chair in a single, fluid movement.

“You’re a student?” he asked.

“Yes. I major in dance.”

Ah. That explained her gracefulness. No wonder he was drawn to her. He’d always had a thing for creative women. “That must be fun.”

“It’s hard work, but I love it.”

“So, what can I do for you today?”

“I just moved out of my ex-boyfriend’s apartment and got a place of my own, so I need to change my address.” She slid a piece of paper across the desk. “Here’s the new one.”

He clamped down on the urge to ask if she lived alone until it made his head throb. He never found his women at work. They’d be too easy to trace back to him. He knew better, but Gloria was so lovely. So perfect.

Maybe just this one time he could break his own rules. He owed it to himself to at least find out more about her. He owed it to Wendy.

“I’ll need to see your ID.”

Gary watched as she reached into her purse and pulled out a wallet. Those slender, graceful fingers of hers sorted through the cards until she came up with her driver’s license. She handed it to him, and he couldn’t stop himself from grazing one finger against hers.

He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the discomfort his trapped erection caused.

Rules were meant to be broken, and if ever there was a woman worth taking a risk for, it was the one sitting across his desk. There was just something about Gloria that gave him hope that perfection was real and waiting for him to make the first move.

Gary finished updating her records and watched as she walked away, each stride fluid and graceful. When she was finally out of sight, he took the slip of paper with Gloria’s new address on it and slid it into his pocket.

If she hadn’t wanted him to come visit her tonight, she wouldn’t have left her address behind. She may not have shown it, but he had a feeling that she wanted him as much as he did her. There was probably something in her that had sensed the kind of man he was, the kind of things he liked to do to women.

Wendy had been drawn to that darker side of him. She’d liked the pain he gave her.

Gloria would, too.

S
tupid, foolhardy, brainless woman.

Trent’s feet still burned from stomping all the way home, and that had been twenty minutes ago. It was good she didn’t want him around. He didn’t want to watch her self-destruct. Hearing about her foolish plan was bad enough.

The cold shower he’d taken hadn’t done anything to cool off his frustration with her and her “plan.”

He turned on the TV to drown out the instincts that were screaming at him to stop her. It wasn’t his business. If she wanted to throw herself on a fire, she could. He didn’t care.

Or at least, he wished he didn’t.

His hair was still wet when he sat down with his microwaved TV dinner. It was nearly seven, and the last few minutes of the news droned on while he waited for the next show to start. He needed to get his mind off Elise, and TV was easy. He’d been leaning on the thing for years as a means of distraction.

The anchor came on, her voice perfectly modulated to somber professionalism. “And for those of you who might be tuning in late, please take a look at this photo. Ashley McBride went missing from her Haven, Illinois, home sometime late Friday.”

Trent looked up from his food to see a recent photo of Ashley glowing bright on the TV. Her face was frozen in a laugh and there was a smear of blue paint on one cheek.

“If you’ve seen her, or have any information that might lead to her whereabouts, please call the Crime Stoppers line.”

The image cut to Elise, standing in front of Ashley’s house. Several microphones were thrust in her face, but she ignored them and looked directly into each camera, one at a time. When her gaze connected with this station’s camera, Trent’s breath swelled in his chest. He felt like she was pleading with him personally. Sunlight glinted off the streaks of tears sliding down her cheeks. Her voice wavered with emotion, but she held steady, saying what needed to be said. “I’m offering a reward of ten thousand dollars to anyone who can help the police find my sister. Please, if you know anything, call the Crime Stoppers Hotline. I need to—” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “If you want to remain anonymous, that’s fine. I just want to know where she is so I can bring her home.”

She’d said more, but the story was already aging, and she was cut off before she finished. The reporter repeated the Crime Stoppers Hotline number and moved on to the next bit of news they wanted to shove in before the last few seconds of airtime were gone.

Trent sat there with the image of Elise’s grief-stricken face burned into his retinas. He wanted to help her, to make it all go away. He wanted to find Ashley and bring her home safe and sound.

He missed being a cop, missed helping people so much it felt like part of him had been gouged out and the open wound left bleeding.

If only he’d been more careful. Smarter.

Hell.

Trent dropped his fork and shoved the TV tray away. No way was he going to be able to eat now, not with all that guilt swirling around in his gut.

He went to the kitchen for some antacids and stared across the street. Through Ashley’s sheer curtains he could see Elise’s shadow moving around in the living room, likely trying to maneuver around all that damn furniture.

The woman was going to get herself killed looking for her sister. She was going to poke her nose into places it shouldn’t be and end up getting it lopped off.

None of his business.

Any minute now, she’d walk out that door and get in her car. She’d drive over to Sally’s and start asking dangerous questions. Even if no one there knew what had happened to Ashley, he’d bet his house that several people there had secrets to keep. That place wasn’t exactly the safest hangout, which was why it was popular among the younger, thrill-seeking crowds.

It was the first place he’d go if he wanted to find drugs, especially party drugs. He didn’t know if Ashley was into them or not, but if she was, Elise was going to run into the wrong person fast when she started asking around.

And when she did…

None of his business.

Trent was not going to crack. He was not going to go over there and stop her. If she wanted to get herself killed, it was her decision. She was a grown woman and perfectly able to make whatever stupid decisions she wanted.

Not stupid. Desperate.

That’s what she’d told him.

What lengths would he go to if Sam went missing? Would he sit around doing nothing, or stick to only safe routes of investigation if it was his brother’s life on the line?

Not a fucking chance. He’d be out there, doing whatever he could—whatever it took to find Sam. He’d take on drug dealers and their thugs ten at a time if that’s what it took. He’d do just what Elise was doing.

Only he’d know what he was getting himself into; he’d have the muscle and the attitude to keep the low-life scumbags from thinking he was an easy target, which would make it a hell of a lot safer.

Elise didn’t have any of that going for her. All she had was a burning need to find Ashley and a mouth that was likely to get her into trouble.

She came out the front door and locked it behind her. The porch light was on, bathing her body in light, making her bare skin glow. And there was a whole bunch of it glowing.

Her dress looked more like a long, clinging shirt, ending only a few scant inches below necessity. Her shoulders were bare but for two minuscule straps holding the dress up—if that’s what one could call up. The thing plunged down so far in back he was sure he could see a couple of dimples only her lovers or doctors should have been able to discover.

As she headed for the car, the black dress caught and held splinters of light, shimmering in a way that caught his attention, even from across the street. She was drop-dead gorgeous. Once she got inside the walls of Sally’s Bar, every eye would be on her.

Trent was sure she’d done it on purpose. He was equally sure that there was no way he was going to let her go alone. Not dressed like that. If she got into trouble, she couldn’t even run away on those tiny, stilt-high heels.

He tossed the antacids in his mouth and chewed them as he headed out the door.

Detective Ed Woodward covered what was left of the woman’s body with a sheet.

“How’d you find her?” Ed asked Officer Talley, one of the uniformed officers who had secured the scene.

“Report came in about two hours ago. Homeless guy called it in from a pay phone about a mile away. He was long gone by the time we got here.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Just that she’d been decapitated. That’s why we called you.”

Ed had been investigating the recent headless, handless victims’ deaths for two months, and he still had nothing to go on. Whoever had killed these women knew how to keep evidence of themselves off the victims—assuming it was even the same guy. Of course, dumping them in the river helped wash away anything the perp might have left behind.

In the moonlight, the white fabric glowed in stark contrast to the muddy ground. Without the head, the drape of the fabric was oddly distorted. Sickening.

“How many does this make now?” asked Talley.