Profile of Retribution: FBI Profiler Romantic Suspense (Profile Series #3) (10 page)

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened to Tisha Lucas that day in your cafe.”

Now she looked baffled, her eyes studying him with a curious intensity. “That’s why you popped in? To talk about Tisha Lucas?”

“Let’s just think of it as a starter topic. Who knows what we can talk about tonight? The evening is young.”

For a long moment, Mollie just looked at him, and he sincerely hoped she didn’t think he was losing his mind. “Like I told you, I was on my way to the kitchen, when I heard the sound of china breaking, as well as a couple of startled squeals. I looked toward the sound and saw this huge guy, wearing a red flannel shirt, using a napkin to sop up a pool of coffee on a table. I didn’t realize at that point, the blond woman sitting at the table with her back to me was Tisha Lucas. I went to the kitchen, grabbed a clean towel, a broom, and a dustpan. When I headed back to the table, I noticed the guy in the red flannel shirt had his hand on the back of Tisha’s neck and was squeezing it as he said something to her.”

“Why do you think he was squeezing her neck?”

“It looked like he was forcing her to look at him. I mean his face was just inches from hers. He had the scariest look on his face, like he really wanted to hurt her. He said something to her, and then he balled up the napkin, which was soaking wet with coffee, threw it at Tisha, then stomped out of the cafe. I hurried to the table, but I was too late. By the time I got there, Tisha Lucas had fled from the restaurant.”

“Did you notice anything else?”

“As I was cleaning up the mess, I overheard some women talking nearby. One of them said that Tisha had it coming.”

Bryan shook his head with disgust. “What the hell is wrong with people? That’s probably one of the first times the poor woman has ventured out of her house since her sons died and the world learned about their crimes. In what universe did she deserve being treated badly?”

Mollie responded in a firm, yet gentle tone. “There’s another side to this, Bryan. People still haven’t gotten over what her sons’ murders did to this community. I mean, we got national scrutiny, and not the good kind. Thanks to Crime Scene Network, our town, and even our county is known as the place where three serial killers thrived—Jim Ryder, Evan and Devan Lucas. What are the odds of that happening in a small, rural community? Most people moved here because it used to be so safe that few of us locked our doors at night.”

“You’re right. I understand that part of it. But it seems like no one is empathetic to what Tisha and Bradley Lucas are going through. How would they like to wake up one morning and discover the sons they love were serial killers? Why can’t they see how difficult it would be for parents to come to grips with the fact that the children they raised could be responsible for atrocious acts of violence? How do they face those facts and balance them along with the instinctive love they’ve had for their sons since they were newborns?”

“Something’s happened with the Lucas couple, hasn’t it? And don’t throw that confidentiality crap at me. Tell me.”

Mollie’s eyes were sharp and assessing. He knew her well enough to realize she wouldn’t let this go.

“Someone threw a bloody rock through the Lucas window the other night.”

“I can tell from the expression on your face, that this wasn’t a simple case of teenage vandalism.”

“Not likely. The guy brought a container of blood to coat the rock, and he watched Tisha and Bradley through the front window for a long time before he threw it. One more thing, he left a note. He thinks they should pay for what their sons did. He wants retribution.”

“Oh, no. Are you thinking that the guy who threatened Tisha in my cafe might be the one who did this?”

“I don’t know. Could be. Do you remember what he looks like? There’s a good chance Cam will contact you for that information. I told him your story.”

“Like I said, he was huge and weighed at least two hundred pounds. He was tall, around six feet four or so. In his forties or maybe even fifties, but his body was fit like he worked hard for a living, or worked out. His brown hair was dusted with gray. That’s about all I remember. But I think I could recognize him in a photo if Cam has a suspect.”

“My theory is Cam has seven families filled with suspects. The Lucas boys killed seven young women. Each member of these families might be the one who thinks retribution is his right. But which one?”

There was empty silence for a long time, but surprisingly it didn’t seem awkward, at least not to Bryan. They swung back and forth, and there was no other place he’d rather be than sitting next to Mollie, so close he could feel the warmth of her body.

As it turned out, Mollie was the first to speak. “One of the things I like about you, Bryan, is your sense of empathy. You dissect human bodies for a living, and yet you still maintain your ability to feel what others might be feeling. Right now, my brain is telling me to back off. My heart is telling me how much I’d like to.”

He turned to her with a questioning expression. Her fingers lightly touched his face and traced the line of his jaw all the way to his hairline. She didn’t stop until her hand was at the back of his neck and she pulled him to her. Bryan dared not move, for fear she would stop touching him. His whole being was filled with wanting her. She gently kissed him, then drew back and looked into his eyes. Touching her lips to his, the kiss was as gentle as the spring breeze. Wrapping his arms around her, he drew her closer and kissed her back, slowly and thoughtfully, because he’d been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.

Bryan left Mollie’s house at midnight, and he was the happiest he’d been in years. They’d spent hours on her porch swing just talking and holding each other. He’d almost told her he loved her, but realized it was much too soon. He’d waited for her for years; he could wait a bit longer.

Chapter Twenty

The Fire and the Note

As he drove home, he realized there was a lot to think about. Building a strong relationship was hard work, but he was in it for the long haul. He’d do whatever it took to keep Mollie in his life. Then there was her daughter, Hailey. He’d never been a father, but he’d seen a good one in action. His dad was everything a child could ever want for a parent, starting from the moment Bryan was born, when his dad got up with him at night so his mother could sleep. Dad was one of those hands-on parents. Diapering his baby wasn’t a foreign concept to him. When Bryan was old enough to walk, his father had him in the backyard, teaching him to catch a softball. From grade school on, his dad could be seen in the bleachers cheering for him. Bryan decided right then that he’d be the same kind of dad to Hailey.

Rolling down his car windows, he enjoyed the cool spring air whipping about his face. He couldn’t stop grinning.

Bryan was a mile or so away from his house when he saw a thick column of smoke rising in the distance. As he drew closer, he realized the smoke was coming from the Lucas place. He floored the accelerator. Slipping his cell phone out of his pocket, he called Cameron.

“Hey, there’s a fire at the Lucas place.”

It sounded like Cameron dropped the phone and then picked it up. “Are you fucking kidding me? Where are you?”

“On my way home. I’m almost to the Lucas property. Something’s on fire.”

“I’ll call dispatch and be there soon.”

When Bryan reached the Lucas place, he saw their mailbox was on fire, flames licking at the wooden structure, so he raced up the driveway to their darkened house. On the front door, he pounded and shouted their names.

A light went on in the upstairs window, and Tisha appeared in the window, her eyes fixed on the fire.

Soon the porch light came on and a drowsy Bradley in boxer shorts opened the door. He saw the fire before he noticed Bryan. “Oh, shit.”

“Are you and Tisha okay? That’s all that matters. You can replace the mailbox tomorrow.”

Nodding, Bradley focused on Bryan. “Yeah, we’re fine. We were sleeping.”

“Why don’t you get some clothes on and I’ll walk the perimeter around the house to make sure he didn’t try to set the house on fire. You should check the interior.”

Bradley’s eyes widened; he nodded and closed the door.

Bryan stepped off the front porch, but something caught his eye and he went back. Peeking from under the porch mat was a folded white piece of paper. Slipping some latex gloves out of his jacket, he put them on and lifted the paper. Unfolding it, he realized it was another note, similar to the one Cam had shown him. This one read:

May you burn in hell with the animals you called sons.

Slipping it into an evidence bag, he shoved it into his pocket.

Chapter Twenty-one

Bradley

Bradley flipped on a bedroom lamp and searched for his jeans. Plucking up a pair lying on a chair, he pulled them on, then noticed Tisha standing in front of the window as if she were mesmerized by the fire.

“Tisha, throw some clothes on. That was Bryan Pittman downstairs. The police are coming.”

Whipping around to face him, her hand was pressed against her chest in surprise. She stared wide-eyed for several seconds before speaking. “It was
him
, wasn’t it?”

“Can’t be sure. I didn’t see a note. Unless you found one and didn’t tell me about it
again
.” He shot her a glare. It still pissed him off that she kept the first note her own little secret.

Tisha shot back a defiant look. “No, I didn’t find a note.”

She tried to pass him but he grabbed her arm. “Don’t ever hide something like that from me again. You put us both in danger.”

“Let go of my arm.” He let go and noticed the red marks his fingers had made on her pale skin. Damn it. Was he abusing his wife now?

Tisha continued, “I didn’t tell you about the first note because you never believed me when I tried to warn you. I’ve got years under my belt of warning you about the twins, and not once did you take me seriously.”

“I’m sorry, Tisha. How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me? I’m sorry. I can’t undo the past. We don’t have time to talk about this now. Please grab your robe and we’ll check the rest of the house together to see if he tried to get in or set fires in other places.”

Checking every door and window in the house, they saw no evidence of someone trying to break in nor were there any signs of fire. By the time they got to the front door, Cameron’s vehicle was parked by the garage and he held a white paper as he talked to Bryan in the yard.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Tisha shouted. “That’s another one of his messages that you’re holding. What does it say?”

Cameron quickly slipped the evidence bag back to Bryan. “Same veiled threat as the first one.”

Bradley had reached them by then and held out his hand for the note. Bryan looked at Cam and then gave the evidence bag to him. He read it before Tisha snatched it out of his hands.

Alarm came into her eyes, and Bradley wished he could hold her and make it all go away. She searched Cameron’s face, as she handed back the note. “He isn’t going to stop, is he? He won’t stop until we’re dead.”

“Tisha, we don’t know that to be true.” Bradley reached for her, but she stepped back as if his touch were poison. It hurt just as much as the first time she reacted that way. He was her husband. He should be the first person she ran to for comfort. Instead, she pushed him away.

Cameron ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Your husband is right. We don’t know how far he’ll take this. He wants payback. Maybe he is getting enough by the vandalism he’s done so far.”

Bradley interrupted. “What about the mailbox?”

“It looks like he stuffed old rags in your mailbox after he soaked them in gasoline. The smell alone indicates that’s what he used as an accelerant. Nothing sophisticated.” Cameron shrugged and looked at Bryan.

“I checked the perimeter and saw no signs that his intent was to set the house on fire. That’s a good thing. I’ve already sent the first note to the lab. I’ll send this one, too. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll find a fingerprint or DNA.” Bryan paused, looked at the couple, and continued, “I’m sorry this is happening to you. You don’t deserve it.”

“Don’t we?” Tisha asked, avoiding her husband’s eyes. “We’re the ones who raised the monsters who ground out those girls’ lives like they were cigarettes they’d finished.”

Scowling, Bradley moved an inch closer to her. “Stop it, Tisha.”

Looking as if she were close to hysteria, she said, “I’m not like you. I can’t deny what they did, and I can feel for those families who lost their daughters, sisters, wives or mothers. Our sons did that to them.” Tisha ran into the house, slamming the front door behind her.

Bradley looked at his feet, unable to make eye contact, not knowing what to say or do. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Bryan offered. “I imagine you raised your sons the best you could. Like I said before, I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Taking out a business card, he wrote something on the back. “I live up the road. Here’s my number. If you need anything, just call.”

A lump clogged Bradley’s throat. There it was again, this time in the doctor’s eyes. Pity. Concern. The last things he needed or wanted, so he changed the subject as he turned his attention to Cameron. “Any suspects?”