The Watched (CSI Reilly Steel #4) (28 page)

Familiar guilt surged through her. They called it survivor’s guilt, but sometimes Reilly didn’t feel like much of a survivor.

She
took a deep breath. ‘So I know what it’s like to have someone you love taken from you violently, suddenly. What it’s like to stand in that cold room and have to say the words that mean they’re never coming back.’ She turned to him. ‘And I also understand what it’s like to want to punish the person who did it – or worse, punish yourself for not stopping it.’

Todd stood silent fo
r several seconds before asking, ‘What happened to your sister?’

Reilly
turned back to the pan. Almost done. ‘Your dad didn’t tell you?’

‘No. All I knew was that you’d lost your mother. I didn’t know anything about . . . how.’

She turned off the flame and poured the mojo sauce over the chicken, the aroma of lime and cumin as comforting as a warm Cuban breeze. ‘A couple of years ago, she got out of prison, followed me and my dad to Dublin. Tried to kill him; me too, I suppose.’

‘Dad never said a word.’ She guessed he was a little hurt by this, though it was nothing new. Daniel rarely discussed a case and Reilly should have known that he would never have betrayed her confidence about the Jess situation.

‘Main thing is, she didn’t succeed on either count.’

‘So i
s that why you went into this line of work originally?’ Todd took the plate she offered him. ‘Because of your mother, I mean.’

They moved to the living room and he
settled on the couch, balancing his plate on his knees.

‘I guess so.’ Reilly could feel her cheeks burning.
‘I never really talk about that to anyone other than my therapist.’

He looked at her softly. ‘
Then why me?’

She considered the question, eyes on her food.
Then she turned to look at him. ‘Because I’m a firm believer in having all the pieces of a puzzle before I try and figure things out.’

‘
What the hell is wrong with you?’ The Maestro threw the notebook at Sheldon. ‘Your first scene was brilliant. Creative, unique in delivery. But this? Complete drivel.’

‘
I did what you wanted,’ Sheldon snapped. ‘I wrote a new murder scene for you.’

‘
I wanted something inspired, something to set me apart from every other two-bit film-maker out there.’ The Maestro paced, his fury building inside him. Why in the world had he chosen a hack like Sheldon? Sure, he’d got a couple of Academy Awards nominations, but everyone knew that was just politics and sucking-up.

‘
You want something so gruesome that no one will ever forget it,’ Sheldon translated, unable to disguise the disgust in his tone.

The
Maestro considered the statement for a moment and then nodded. ‘I guess if that’s the way you want to look at it.’

‘
I’m not giving you anything else you can use to torture and kill an innocent human being.’ Sheldon managed to look almost dignified. Well, as dignified as someone could look when sitting in their own filth.

‘
And you thought writing a scene where a man shoots an intruder was the best way to do it?’ His voice grew dangerously soft. ‘I can have no survivors, no witnesses. And do you really think I’d use an actual criminal in the scene?’

‘
You know what?’ Sheldon said. ‘I actually don’t care. I’m done helping you. Threaten all you want. There’s no way you can get anywhere near my daughter.’

‘I thought you might say that.’ T
he Maestro crossed to Sheldon’s cot, reaching into his pocket. He handed the contents to the writer. ‘As you can see here, I have no problem getting close to your daughter. The joke of a security guard the hotel hired will do just about anything for a couple of hundred bucks.’

‘
You son of a bitch,’ Sheldon whispered as he flipped through the stack of pictures. His face paled more with each one.

Kai eating her meals
at the hotel with a distracted, worried look on her face.

Her angry, agitated expression as she yelled at a
Tampa detective.

Her young face, relaxed at last as she curled up on her bed, unaware of the danger standing just a few feet away.

The Maestro sat on his chair, a smirk on his face. ‘Now, in case you’re wondering, I’ve done quite a bit of research into possible scenes I could use your daughter in.’

Sheldon
’s dark eyes blazed as he looked up at his captor. ‘Don’t you dare touch her.’

‘
You mean you don’t want her to have the opportunity to do Jodie Foster’s scene in
The Accused
?’ The Maestro’s grin grew. He had the writer exactly where he wanted him.

‘
You’re one sick . . .’

‘
Write me a new scene. Two new scenes, as a matter of fact. Do that and your precious little girl might live to fail at her attempt to become a stuntwoman.’ The Maestro stood. ‘And make this one good. Write as if your life – and your daughter’s – depends on it.’

The salt from the tears he’d hidden lingered on his lips, bitter against her tongue, and she pulled him closer. The rational part of her mind that would’ve said this was a bad idea had long since been banished by the part of her that ached to comfort him.

He’d started talking about Bradley in halting sentences, telling
her about how when Todd had first been hired, he’d been cocky and arrogant, thinking that his father’s name would automatically get him respect. How Bradley had called him on it, taken him to a crime scene where the remains of a drug dealer had been found inside an alligator, then laughed when Todd had thrown up all over his new shoes.

When the story turned to Bradley spending
the weekend with him for support after Todd’s only serious girlfriend had cheated on him, the tears had threatened to spill over. He’d started to speak and his voice had cracked, leaving him without words.

A sense of helplessness settled over
Reilly and so she did the only thing that she could. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. She was still there when he turned his face toward her. She wasn’t sure who had moved first, only that she blinked and then they were kissing.

His lips moved against hers with an almost frightening urgency, his hands moving over her body, hesitating at each boundary until she didn’t protest. Their clothes left a trail on the floor as they made their way back to his bedroom, mouths never stilling long enough to question the wisdom of what they were doing.

When he pressed her back against his cotton sheets, she had a brief moment of clarity before her eyes met his, and then she was lost again. She gave herself to him, wanting nothing more than to give him time without pain, time when he could forget everything but the feel of her body beneath his.

He buried his face in her neck as he moved inside her and she could feel his lips moving soundlessly against her skin. She murmured words of comfort, stroking her hands through his hair, down his back, holding him as closely as anyone could be held. Their bodies shuddered together, comforting pleasure washing over them.

She held his welcome weight until he rolled them onto their sides; even then, she kept her arms around him. She waited for his breathing to slow before she closed her own eyes, secure in the knowledge that he would sleep now.

It didn’t take
Reilly long to join him, exhaustion claiming her so completely that this time no nightmares would touch her.

CHAPTER
33

A day later, the Maestro looked over the latest pages and smiled. Much better.

Setting up the networked computers had been a stroke of genius on his part. Not surprising
, considering that he was one. Giving the writer access to a keyboard seemed to have prompted Sheldon’s creativity once more.

The new
scene was brilliant. So completely unsettling that he actually felt sick at the idea. In his opinion, that was one of the marks of a good murder scene.

The
Maestro didn’t understand why the writer felt guilty. It wasn’t like he actually
did
anything. He’d barely be considered legally complicit. After all, no one blamed the lookout for the
Titanic
sinking . . . OK, so maybe that wasn’t the best example.

He
drained the last of his Scotch and pulled up a map on his computer. He had some shopping to do, as well as a little research. Once he had everything together, he’d go scouting for the perfect cast.

Finally being able to film
scenes written with him in mind, without having to consult anyone else, and minus any of the usual Hollywood bullshit fucking things up – never mind having the opportunity to act as well as direct – was far more exciting than he’d ever dreamed.

Two days had passed and
Reilly was still kicking herself for spending the night with Todd. She never did things like that.

The morning after, she’d managed to slip out before
he woke, leaving him a note saying that she needed to call back to Dublin to check in with her boss. While untrue, she guessed he wouldn’t be fooled into thinking that was the real reason she’d chosen to make her call from somewhere other than his apartment.

Back at the beach house over breakfast, s
he’d barely managed to compose herself before Daniel got up. If he’d noticed that she hadn’t come back during the night, he didn’t say anything, merely inquiring after his son and nodding in acknowledgment when Reilly had said that Todd was ‘doing as well as could be expected’.

The entire day had passed without her seeing or speaking to Todd.
Reilly couldn’t help but feel that she should be out there with him doing something to bring Bradley’s killer to justice. She’d prowled the house restlessly until Daniel finally told her to go for a run, a swim, anything to burn off the excess energy. After a ten-mile run and an hour doing laps in the pool, she was finally tired enough to sit down and pretend to read.

She’d been fine then until
Daniel had turned on the news to hear that yet another email had been sent to the police department. The newscaster had almost sounded gleeful as she’d read it.

I have heard many are calling me the Maestro. While this is not the name I have chosen for myself, I accept this title as it has been selected by my public. I am grateful for the positive reaction I’ve received from my audience, and hope for your continued support as I expand my horizons. Be expecting great things from me in the near future.

The reporter rounded up by saying ‘. . . and with that the Maestro again flaunts the fact that the Tampa PD has yet to find him, and promises even more bloodshed.’

In that moment,
Reilly had wished she had the opportunity to slap the snide smile right off the other woman’s face. What had come next hadn’t done much to curb the impulse.

‘
And in other news, screenwriter Drew Sheldon is still missing. With no apparent leads, Sheldon’s daughter decided to step in front of the cameras this morning to make a plea for her father’s life.’

The picture had cut to Kai
Sheldon, whom Reilly and Daniel had met at the Millennium Hotel. The girl’s face had been strained, the circles under her eyes dark, but her voice had been strong as she’d spoken. ‘To whoever has my father, I’m asking, please let him go. If it’s money you’re after, please ask. I just want my father back.’

The screen had stayed on Kai but her voice had faded as the newscaster had talked over the visual.
‘Sources in the police department have told us that Miss Sheldon’s promise to pay a ransom was not sanctioned by the TPD and that she made the offer without their approval.’ The picture returned to the anchor for the final comment. ‘No word yet if Miss Sheldon’s plea was successful.’

Reilly
had turned it off in disgust and gone to take a shower, hoping it would ease some of her tension. It hadn’t worked and she’d tossed and turned for most of the night.

The following day
had been as awkward as she’d feared. Fortunately, Daniel was so busy sifting through the list of evidence from the previous two crime scenes that he hadn’t seemed to notice Todd and Reilly tiptoeing around each other when Todd called in the office with a progress update.

They’d spoken only when necessary and avoided all forms of eye contact. She hadn’t even looked at him when he announced that there would be a memorial for Bradley the next day, a small service at the little non-denominational church he’d occasionally attended.

Once his body was released, Bradley’s family would be taking him back to Miami to be buried. It was also when the FBI would be stopping by the lab to pick up any evidence related to the serial killer.

Unless, of course, Todd added, Daniel
came through in the meantime.

A heavy silence had fallen over the
office at that point, an oppressive air that had threatened suffocation with every breath. Reilly had never felt under so much pressure. All she had been able to do was hope that Daniel would be able to push through a favor and keep Todd’s crew on the case. She didn’t want to see how he was going to react if he was told to walk away.