Merchants with Evil Intent (10 page)

      
Ryan grinned and patted the empty seat
next to him. She shot him a wary smile and sat. He smiled back, wrapping his
arm around her. She closed her eyes and snuggled her head into his neck.

      
A small stab of pain filled her chest
when she opened her eyes. Her parents looked as if they aged several years over
night.

      
“How’s your head?” Ryan teased.

      
“Three sizes bigger than yesterday,” she
muttered.

      
“I’ll get you an aspirin,” Grace offered.

      
Camryn shook her head. “I’ll be okay;
it’s nothing a good run won’t fix.”

      
Grace’s eyes filled. “We hope you’ll
forgive us.”

      
Camryn leapt to her feet and sat on the
oak coffee table, taking their hands into hers. “You took me in when my own
father didn’t want me and raised me as your own. No matter what’s happened,
you’re my parents and I love you.”

      
The trio hugged and soon after Ryan and
Claire joined them.

      
“Does this mean you’ll still be my
pain-in-the-ass big sister?” Ryan choked out.

      
They laughed through tears until they
heard knocking at the front door.

      
Her dad cleared his throat and wiped his
eyes with the backs of his hands. “I’ll get it.”

      
A moment of uneasiness filled the room at
the sound of John’s voice.

      
“Let me in Pattie, for chrissakes. I have
news to share!”

      
“Wait here,” Patrick commanded.

      
Her dad walked into the living room with
his hands tucked inside of his pockets.
“Cam?”

      
She shrugged, “Let him in.”

      
John had never been so offended. To
think, his own brother didn’t want to let him into his house!

      
“Camryn, girl, I have great news,” he
paused when she didn’t turn to face him. “Um, well, the slime that sent the
flowers and broke into your house was apprehended last night at the bar.”

      
She felt better hearing the news, but
refrained from looking at him.

      
John shifted his weight. “They also have
him fingered as the abductor of the missing women.”

      
Camryn turned, facing him. Her eyes were
puffy. Damn, he hated to see her that way.

      
“How?” she asked in a barely audible
voice.

      
“It’s in the paper today. Another woman
was snatched from the concert we attended. Witnesses have come forward with
descriptions of the same guy the cops grabbed last night.”

      
“Mom?
Do you
have the paper?” she asked.

      
Ryan jumped up. “I’ll get it.”

      
John moved in closer and sat on the
couch. He patted Camryn’s knee and she jerked away.

      
She moved to the love seat. Ryan handed
her the newspaper and sat next to her. Her mouth formed a circle when she saw
the woman’s photo.

      
She scanned the article and reread the
description of the alleged abductor. Her nostrils flared at Josh Taylor’s name
as the writer. She steeled herself before she asked the abductor’s name.

      
John shrugged, “Off the record?”

      
“Of course,” she replied haughtily.

      
“Andre Valik. He’s being interrogated
now.”

      
She rubbed her temples. “They’ve got the
wrong guy.”

      
“He was picked out of a line-up by
witnesses and he was the one stalking you,” John argued.

      
Camryn stood and walked to the foyer. She
grabbed her purse from the oak stair railing. Over her shoulder she murmured,
“She left with Viktor.”

*
     
*
     
*

      
“Your keys, gel.”

      
“Declan where are you going?” Colleen
asked.

      
He ran his hands through his hair.
“The park.
I must go there.”

      
She laughed, “Ya don’t even know how to
get there! Are you barmy?”

      
He grabbed her forcefully by the
shoulders. “Coll, I need to go.
Now.
I doona know why,
but I do.”

      
She slowly nodded and wrote directions
for him. He kissed her cheek when she handed him the keys to her mini-van.

      
Before backing out he read the directions
Colleen had given him. He somewhat remembered the way. His fear wasn’t getting
lost in Chicago, but remembering to drive on the correct side of the road.

*
     
*
     
*

      
The closer Viktor got to the station, the
more his guts wrenched. He got the call Camryn’s stalker had been apprehended.
The same guy was fingered by several witnesses as the one who took Camille
Mayden.

      
This
is too easy
, he thought, pulling into the station parking lot.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camryn ran wearing headphones attached to
the IPod she tucked inside her bra. The screech of wailing guitars filled her
ears.

      
She passed a food vendor then doubled
back. After purchasing a bottle of water from the chubby fellow she walked
towards an empty bench.

      
A few cops patrolled the park. A useless
gesture since they had someone in custody.

      
She took a long swig of water scanning
the grassy patch where she and Declan danced. She closed her eyes, remembering
the moment. Oh how she wanted to run her fingers through his thick black hair!

      
She opened her eyes and saw him in the
distance. She rubbed her eyes and looked again.
Nothing.
Great.
I’ve gained a father, but lost my
mind.

      
She gazed at her shoes. She bent to retie
them when a shadow formed in front of her. Gradually she lifted her head and
flinched in surprise, knocking the headphones from her ears.

      
“’Tis you,” he whispered.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Viktor strolled into the office, dodging
fellow cops as he made his way to his desk.

      
He went through his voicemails. Not one
from Camryn.

      
Lt. Brower stepped out of his office and
shouted for Viktor to see him at once.

      
Brower looked out dirt stained windows,
chomping on a carrot stick. He turned when Viktor entered the room. “Close the
door,” he gruffly ordered.

      
A knot of unease formed in Viktor’s
stomach.

      
“Help me understand why someone would
take a lucrative career and shit cans it to become a monster?” Brower asked.
      

      
“Sir?”
Viktor
mumbled.

      
Brower paced the small office. His black
suit was wrinkled, like he’d been in it for many hours.

      
Viktor watched him. A light sheen of oil
covered Brower’s black hair. Upon further inspection, Viktor’s nose wrinkled at
the pools of sweat formed under Brower’s armpits.

      
Brower sat on the edge of his desk. His
face looked harried, beaten. “Orlov, we need your help. The perp’s talking in
Russian and no one understands him. What we’ve ascertained, besides his name,
is that he’s a doctor by trade. A
fucking
MD! Why would someone give up that?

      
I’ve been here all fucking night
listening to bullshit that spews out of the bastard’s mouth and we’ve gotten no
where. We need you to talk to him.”

      
Viktor swallowed hard. “What makes you
think he’ll talk to me?”

      
“Because he asked for you by name,”
Brower stated matter-of-factly.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camryn stood on shaky legs, gazing up at
Declan. “You’ve been looking for me?” she asked breathlessly.

      
“Aye.
I saw the
morning newspaper. I feared t’was you on the cover.”

      
He shifted his weight from leg to leg,
fighting the urge to grab and hold her.

      
“Would it have mattered?” she asked
curiously.

      
He jammed his fists into his pants
pockets. “T’would matter greatly. I’d not gone back to Ireland until you were
found.”

      
She was surprised by his reply and
intrigued at the same time.

      
“Declan, right?” He nodded and she
continued, “I’m flattered that you worried about me, but I’m fine. Good seeing
you again.” She turned and walked away.

      
What should she have done? Stayed? What
good would come of it? He lived in Ireland and her home was in Chicago. She
didn’t believe in long-distance romance, let alone a trans-continental
relationship!

      
Whimsy superseded logic and she found
herself turning back. She spun into him, causing him to catch her from falling.

      
She gripped his upper arms for support.

      
“You turned around,” he whispered
hoarsely.

      
“You followed me,” she countered.

      
They stood closer now than when they
danced at the concert. It felt right and not right at the same time. She wanted
to run away and she wanted to stay. She wanted to feel his lips against hers
and she didn’t.

      
Holding the lass made him realize what
he’d been missing these many years. Twasn’t
any
woman’s touch he’d been missing; t’was
this
woman’s touch. It sounded barmy to him, but it was a feeling that couldn’t be
quelled.

      
He pulled her closer and brushed a gentle
kiss across her forehead. When she didn’t retreat he rested his cheek against
her temple. It overwhelmed him just holding her in his arms. Suddenly she
squirmed. He pulled away and cocked his head.

      
“Are ya gonna kiss me or what?” she asked
impetuously.

      
He blinked in surprise. Now he didna know
if he wanted to kiss her.

      
A long moment filled the silence.

      
“Apparently not.
Your loss,
boyo
,” she snipped pulling
away from him.

      
Her cheeks filled with heat as she walked
away. Maybe she wasn’t pretty enough for him, maybe she smelled. She casually
sniffed her armpits walking towards her car.

      
When she reached for the car door handle
he grabbed her arm. He spun her around and brought his hand to the back of her
head, cradling it.

      
His expression was a mixture of amusement
and confidence. “Aye, I’m gonna kiss ya,” he whispered inching towards
her.
  

*
     
*
     
*

      
Viktor walked into the interrogation
room. Valik had traces of blood on his face.

      
“English?”
Viktor asked.

      
“Nyet!”

      
Pulling out a metal chair, Viktor blew
out a long hard breath.

      
Valik grinned and began talking in
Russian. Viktor couldn’t keep up and held a hand up to stop him.

      
In low tones Viktor spat, “Cut the
bullshit. You speak English as well as everyone here.”

      
Valik absently flicked the wooden table.
“I’d say better than the dregs here.” He continued, “The girl isn’t safe, you
know.”

      
Viktor’s hands formed into fists beneath
the table. “What do you want?”

      
Valik looked at him incredulously, “The
reporter, you idiot.”