Speak No Evil (28 page)

There was no soul in Brandon’s ice-blue eyes.

“She was the girl on the tape,” he said simply.

“What tape?” she asked.

He didn’t elaborate, but said almost as cryptically, “When I saw her website I knew it was her, even though she was supposed to be dead. And then she walked into the Shack and everything came together. I’d been watching her on the computer for nearly a year, and she’s real. It was
meant
to happen. She already died once.”

Carina didn’t know if Brandon really believed what he was saying or if it was some stunt. She pushed.

“What about Becca? Becca Harrison had no Web page, she didn’t look or act like Angie. Why her?”

“Because I couldn’t have Jodi.”

Nick was right,
Carina thought. He took Becca because he couldn’t get to the girl he really wanted.

“But why her and not some random woman off the street?”

“She was nice to me.”

Carina forced her face to remain blank at the killer’s revelation. Brandon had lowered his gun. He was still holding on to Josh’s shoulder with his left hand, but his gun hand was level with his leg.

“Why Leah?” Kyle asked, turning Brandon’s attention from Carina to him. “Why did you take Leah? You know her. You’ve always liked her, you said so after I told you Maggie and I were dating.”

“Because Leah reminded me of Becca.”

That didn’t make sense to Carina, but she didn’t push it. Brandon was getting a faraway look in his eyes and she sensed that she would need to act soon or everyone could end up dead. By this time the SWAT team had to be in place. They’d have the building surrounded. She glanced at the partly open slats in the single kitchen window on the wall between the small office and the walk-in storage unit, which led to the service entrance. SWAT would have a view of the people in the kitchen, but Brandon wasn’t at the right angle. Worse, she was between Brandon and the window.

She looked at Josh. The kid was frightened, but he stood straight. The only sign that he was scared was the way his wide brown eyes darted from her to Kyle and back again. Pleading with her to save him.

For a brief moment she pictured her nephew’s large brown eyes pleading with his killer, begging for his life.

Not now, Kincaid.
It wouldn’t do her any good to think that way. She caught Josh’s eye and made a connection.
Trust me.

“Brandon, what have you done?” Kyle’s voice barely registered, and Carina focused on the scene unfolding in front of her. Kyle had stepped closer to his brother, his hands out, palms up. “You killed Angie? You killed those other women?”

“You’d never understand,” Brandon said.

“No, I don’t. For years I’ve been trying to forget about our father and how he fucked up our lives, and here you are pulling the same shit.”

“Don’t talk to me about Dad! Don’t you see? This is my chance to find him. She”—he waved the gun toward Carina—“knows where he is.”

“I don’t know where he is,” Carina said.

Brandon glared at her. “You were asking questions about him. You’re looking for him, right?”

“He’s wanted by LAPD for rape,” Carina said.

“No, no, you have it all wrong,” Brandon said, moving the gun from Josh to Carina and back. “She lied. She had sex with my dad and then lied about it to get him in trouble.”

“That’s Mom talking!” Kyle exclaimed.

Brandon’s attention turned back to Kyle, and Carina nodded, hoping Kyle saw her.
Keep him talking, Kyle. Keep him focused on you.

She inched toward the stove. It was off—the cook had heard about the fictitious gas leak—but the oil for the fries was still hot. If she could get Josh away from Brandon, she might have a distraction until she could get to her clutch piece, the small twenty-two she had tucked in her back waistband.

But Josh had to be safe before she made any aggressive move.

“You always talked shit about Dad,” Brandon said. “You always believed the lies.”

“They weren’t lies! Don’t you see?”

“Stop. Just stop it! I’m going to find Dad and then you’ll see.”

“You won’t find him! He’s dead!”

Brandon stared at Kyle, eyes wide and disbelieving. “You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.

“I know he’s dead because I killed him,” Kyle said, taking a step toward Brandon. “I killed him. He deserved it.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that so I give up trying to find him.”

“Our father was a rapist, a sadist. He was bad news all the way around. When he got out of prison he didn’t wait long. Just a few months. And I knew he was going out at night, up to his old tricks. So I followed him.”

Brandon’s focus was solely on Kyle. His grip on Josh hadn’t loosened, however; if anything, it was firmer. The kid winced under the pressure of his fingers.

“I watched him crawl in through the unlocked window. I stood there, saw what he did to that woman. I just stood there and didn’t do anything.” Kyle glanced at Carina, then looked down. “I’ve hated myself ever since. Hated myself for not stopping him. For not calling the cops.”

“You’re lying,” Brandon said.

“I followed him to a bar. I couldn’t go in, but I waited. He came out drunk. He saw me, came over. I had Mom’s car. He sat in the passenger seat and asked how I’d liked watching.

“The bastard knew all along I was there. I pulled out Mom’s gun, the one she got after the trial, and shot him. I didn’t even think about it. I just shot him and he died right there.”

Brandon paled, his hand shook, and he raised the gun toward Kyle. “You . . . you couldn’t have. You didn’t—”

“I killed him. And guess what? Mom helped me dump his body in the Sunshine Canyon landfill in Sylmar.”

“No.” Brandon let go of Josh and pressed his hand on his head. “No!”

Carina caught Josh’s eye, and he ran to her. She had him behind her back by the time Brandon turned the gun toward her.

“He’s a child, Brandon, please. Let him go.”

Brandon looked confused and undecided. Carina inched toward the swinging kitchen doors very slowly, shielding Josh’s body with her own. “You don’t want to hurt a little boy, Brandon,” Carina said. “He’s innocent. You have me. Let him go and take me.”

Two long strides forward and Brandon had her arm. The gun was to her head.

“Nothing stupid.”

“Run, Josh,” she said, not breaking eye contact with Brandon.

The boy hesitated for only a moment. He then ran for the swinging doors. Brandon followed, pulling Carina with him, looked out as Josh ran through.

“Cops are all over the place,” he said, sounding surprised.

“Of course. They were at your house. They know what you did.”

Carina caught a glimpse of a familiar figure crouched on the other side of the kitchen doors.

Nick.

“What do you want, Brandon?” Carina asked him, her right hand close to her gun.

“I don’t know. I don’t know! Don’t rush me.”

“Brandon, please, give it up,” said Kyle. “They’ll kill you.”

“No. Not with her.” He pulled Carina closer to him. Though he was a skinny seventeen-year-old, he was strong. He had to be, Carina thought, to carry dead bodies around.

“You let the boy go,” Carina said, “they’ll go easy on you if you just surrender.”

“No!” He hit her over the head with the gun. She faltered, trying to fall to the floor so Nick could get a clean shot from the door, but Brandon wouldn’t let her drop. He backed up to the counter, close to his original position.

Blinking back the pain in her skull, she assessed the distance between her and the knife on the butcher block.

The knife was gone.

She darted her eyes toward Kyle. His face was blank, but he had one hand behind his back. Brandon didn’t seem to notice.

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” Brandon said. “Kyle, you’re going to call the police. From your office. And tell them that I want a car. You’ll drive it, and I’ll keep her in the back with me. They won’t shoot as long as we have her.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Brandon.”

Brandon shook his head, his fingers crushing her arm as he held tight. “Why are you doing this to me? It’s the only way.”

“It’s not the only way,” Kyle said. “Good-bye, Brandon.”

Kyle brought out the knife and held it in both hands, the blade facing his own stomach.

Brandon was as shocked as Carina. As Kyle brought his arms up to stab himself in the chest, he caught Carina’s eye. She nodded.

She grabbed her twenty-two from her waistband at the same time that she kicked back and up, aiming right for his hairless balls. Direct hit. Brandon released her and doubled over, his face a mask of ferocious pain and anger, as he jerked the gun around toward her. She dove to the left, out of the line of fire that she expected from Nick’s position in the hall.

Nick rolled into the kitchen and shouted, “Police! Drop it!”

Brandon whirled around, his gun now aimed at Nick. Brandon fired. As Carina depressed the trigger of her gun, she saw Nick take a direct hit in the chest and fall back.

Carina fired again at the same time Nick did.

But it was the knife Kyle threw into Brandon’s back that hit first.

He fell forward, seemingly in slow motion, until his head smacked against the tile floor, eyes open and un-seeing.

Carina retrieved Burns’s gun as the SWAT team ran in through both entrances. She crawled over to where Nick was struggling to sit up, a pained look on his face.

“You okay?”

“Damn, that hurt.”

Thank God for Kevlar.
She kissed him, helped him remove his shirt and flak jacket. A large purple bruise was already forming. She kissed his chest lightly, tears rushing to her eyes now that they were safe. “How are your ribs?” she asked, trying to sound casual, her voice cracking at the last moment.

“Intact,” he said as he exhaled and Carina helped him sit up. “I’m fine.”

He stared at her, touched the top of her head where Brandon had hit her with the gun. He came back with blood on his fingers. The worry on his face matched her own.

“Are you okay, Cara?”

She nodded. “I’m okay.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m okay.”

They sat there in the corner and watched the SWAT team leader lead Kyle Burns out of the kitchen. He stopped at his brother’s dead body.

“I’m not sorry you’re dead,” he said to his brother’s inert form. “I’m only sorry I didn’t see you for what you were.”

THIRTY
-
FIVE

C
ARINA AND
N
ICK
were medically cleared at the scene and left together for Carina’s house. First thing, Carina called her parents.

“I’m fine,” she said into the phone. “Nothing big, just a couple bumps. I’m going to be late for dinner because I really need a shower.”

When she hung up, Nick said, “I was so scared, Carina,” pulling her gently into his arms. “When he had the gun on you . . . I can’t lose you.” Her brown eyes melted at his voice and he knew she wanted him just as much.

He lightly touched the purple bruise on her face, kissed it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Tears fell down her cheeks and Nick brushed them away with his thumbs.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“I-I know. It’s just catching up with me.” Her body started shaking. “I was just as scared for you.”

“And you rose to the occasion. We make a good team.”

He held her close to his chest, stroked her hair, touched her, until the shaking stopped. Until her hands started reaching for him.

He wanted to be gentle, but his slow kiss grew deep, hot, needy. Carina wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his embrace with the same intensity.

He closed his eyes, sank into her lush mouth. She was alive, in his arms. Her heart beat rapidly against his chest, proving her existence.

Carina moaned into his mouth, nipping at his lips, dueling with his tongue. He teased her by pulling back, then diving back into her mouth. Their tongues mimicked sex, in and out, wrapped around each other, urgent.

Carina backed into the shower, taking him, fully clothed, with her. He stripped, leaving his soggy clothes on the shower floor. The hot water pulsed over their skin, an erotic, wet caress.

He took the soap in his hands, lathered it up, massaged it all over her shoulders, her neck, her breasts. Down between her legs and she gasped. He went down on his knees, washed her muscular thighs, her slender calves, her sexy little feet.

“Oh Nick.”

Her hands grabbed his hair, kneading, as his tongue trailed up her slick body, behind her knee, scraping over her hot center to her navel. She shivered and moaned, brought his mouth back to hers. Reached down and touched him, making him moan in response. He leaned into her body, pushing her gently against the cold tile wall. She clung to him, one leg wrapped around his waist.

“The bed,” he whispered in her ear.

“Here. Now.” She sucked the lobe of his ear, kissed his neck, nibbled his shoulder.

He held one thigh up with his arm, and she guided him into her.

“Fast,” she said. “Fast and hard and don’t stop.”

Her words were as sexy as her voice, deep with arousal. He gave her what she asked for, and together, too quickly, they peaked.

“Now, we go slow,” he told her as he turned off the water and carried her to her bed.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” Carina asked Nick as they lay in bed later that night.

“Not until I met you.”

Her heart flipped and she felt light-headed. “My parents fell in love right away.”

Nick raised his head, propped it on his left hand, while his right hand played with her hair. “Really?”

“My mom escaped Cuba when she was twenty. This was in the mid-sixties, when it was harder to escape. Not that it’s easy now, but then . . . many died trying to reach Florida.” They still did, but not in the same numbers.

Carina told the story as if it had happened to her. The tragic and happy tale. “My mom bribed a captain to take her and her younger sister to Florida. He only took her halfway, dumping her on a dinghy with my aunt in the middle of the ocean. My aunt didn’t survive.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She was wonderful, my mom said. Always happy. But at sea . . . three days with no food and only a gallon of fresh water to share. There were sharks in the water, and every once in a while they’d bump the bottom of the boat.

“My father was in the army, but he was on maneuvers in the Keys. He saw the boat in the distance and took a motorboat to meet it. You know the general rule, right? If Cuban immigrants make it to land, they have amnesty. If they’re apprehended at sea, they’re taken to a military base and deported.

“My mother would have been severely beaten had she been returned to Cuba, probably killed, because of her escape. Made an example. She had embarrassed her father in front of his commander, Castro.” She tensed, knowing the pain her mother had endured and the emotional pain still in her heart. Nick rubbed her arm and she relaxed. It was so nice to have him in her bed.

“Your dad didn’t deport her.”

“He brought her to land. My aunt was dead, but my mom had kept her body in the boat. To bury her in free soil.” Carina’s eyes watered, as they always did thinking of what her mother must have been like when she was young. Thinking about the aunt she never knew.

“My father lied to his superiors, said he found the women on an island in the Keys. On land. They were inseparable, and a week later they married.”

“Fast.”

“They’ve been married forty-one years. Not bad for a quick engagement.”

“Not bad at all,” Nick said and kissed her forehead.

Carina didn’t know why she was compelled to tell Nick the story, except that she felt so right with him.

“You’re a great cop.”

“Hmmm.”

“You know, we all make mistakes. I should never have left you without backup at the Burns house.”

“You should never have gone into the restaurant without backup, either,” Nick told her.

“But,” she continued, “you saved Leah and the situation in the restaurant was contained. We make decisions, right or wrong, in a split second. We don’t always have the luxury of time.”

He kissed her. “You don’t need to remind me. I’ll never forget what happened today.”

“But I can honestly say I don’t know that anyone else would have done anything different under those circumstances. We trust our instincts, the gut-level impression born in the moment. When my dad broke the law to bring a Cuban immigrant to shore. When you inspected that cabin outside Bozeman. When I decided to act in the kitchen—and when I decided not to act.

“Mistakes happen. We pay the price and go on.” She kissed him.

He stared into her eyes, serious. “I love you, Carina.”

She sought out his lips. “I love you, too, Sheriff.”

They took their time, slow kisses and languid touches. A whisper, a murmur, skin on skin, hands entwined.
This
was making love.
This
was what Carina had been missing in her life.

She didn’t want to let him go.

Nick’s internal clock woke him before dawn. He leaned over, looked at Carina’s silhouette, her hair sprawled across the pink pillow. He smiled.
Pink
. He’d never have suspected that Carina Kincaid had a girlie streak that included frilly linens and pink decor, but somehow it suited her. Hard and focused on the outside, all woman on the inside.

He was going to miss her. Already, he regretted having to leave.

But his duty was to the people of Gallatin County. He was an elected official who had already been lax in his responsibilities since the Butcher investigation closed.

He’d been thinking about what needed to be done, and running away was not the answer. And if he stayed here in San Diego, he’d be doing exactly that, running away from his problems and leaving the sheriff’s department in irresponsible hands. He’d given thirteen years of his life to the department, good and bad, and he couldn’t turn his back on the men and women who had stood by him in his darkest hour.

His flight left later that morning; he needed to be on it.

He didn’t want to leave.

Silently, he rose from the bed and rubbed his knee. He also had the surgery coming up. He couldn’t miss it.

He wanted Carina there with him.

“Cara,” he whispered in her ear. “I need to talk to you.”

Her eyes fluttered open, darker in the dim light. “Nick?” Her voice was thick with sleep.

“You awake?”

“Yeah.” She sat up, rubbed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I want to marry you, Carina. Come to Montana with me.”

She stiffened beside him and he frowned. What was wrong? “Carina?”

She swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. “Montana?”

“That’s where I live.”

“But I live here!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I thought you understood. This is my family. My life.
My
career.”

He swallowed, his chest tight. “You knew I was going back to Montana today.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“Come with me.”

“I can’t. For the first sixteen years of my life I moved all over the country. Every year a new school. Every year a new house, new friends, new parks. I never made a real friend until my father retired here, in San Diego. I’ve been here for nearly twenty years. My friends are here. My job.
My family!
”

She was right. He couldn’t ask her to leave.

And he couldn’t give up his career, either.

She must have seen the realization on his face. She reached for him. “Nick, please. Don’t go.”

He swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes. “I have to.” He touched her cheek, whispered. “I have to.”

He tilted her chin up. The tears in her eyes made him ache. He wanted to tell her he’d never forget her. That he would always love her. That she had become the most important person in his life.

But he could say none of that. It wouldn’t be fair to her, and Carina deserved love just as much as he did. He didn’t want to trap her with some mind game.

He touched his lips to hers, tasted her for the last time.

“Good-bye.”

He picked up his bag and walked out.