Torn (13 page)

Lucas vomited. Again and again.

“Fuck.” Dace jumped back.

Wade grabbed his arm. “Lucas hired us to find her. This setup—­it's not right.”

The blond woman was staring at them all with dazed, horrified eyes. “Kennedy? Kennedy Lane? You . . . found her?”

Victoria stepped closer to the blonde. “Are you Connie?” Because she remembered that name. Lucas had told them that Connie didn't know he'd hired LOST.
He was going to move on, with Connie.

The woman blinked. “Y-­Yes, I'm Connie. Connie Sutherland.” Then she very slowly turned her attention to the evidence bag that the uniformed officer had brought over to Dace. “That's not mine.” Her voice was wooden. Too flat.
Is she in shock?
“We—­We both have the newest models, the big screens, the—­” She broke off, her lips clamping together. Her body rocked back and forth. “
What is going on? You—­You all think Lucas killed Kennedy?”

No, Victoria didn't think that. She also didn't think that Wade believed that, either.

Lucas had stopped vomiting. Now he was hunched on the ground, covered in filth, and he was—­crying.

“Kennedy . . . he tortured Kennedy . . .” Lucas mumbled again and again.

Her chest ached as she listened to him.

No, she didn't have Sarah's expertise with killers, but every instinct she
did
have told her one thing. Lucas Branson wasn't the killer they were after.

“I think the cops know that isn't your phone,” Victoria quietly told Connie.
It's Melissa. And I hope the cops can realize that Lucas isn't the man they're after.
But before Victoria could say anything else, a cop led the crying blonde away. But at least the guy's touch was more careful now, as if they'd all realized Connie and Lucas weren't the terrible criminals they'd suspected.

While Connie was secured in the back of a patrol car, Dace stared down at Lucas, and Victoria could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

“Branson.” Dace's voice was softer now. “Can anyone verify that you just arrived at this house?”

Lucas nodded. “N-­Neighbor. Over there . . .” He pointed to one of the neighbors who'd come out to gawk at the scene. “Mr. Morris saw me and Connie pull up. Stopped to talk to us . . . said he'd—­” His head snapped back as he stared first at Wade, then Dace, with wide eyes. “Said he'd seen some guy in Connie's backyard.”

Victoria's gaze shot to the neighbor even as Dace ordered a uniformed cop to bring Mr. Morris over for questioning.

“Lucas needs to get cleaned up,” Victoria said, her heart still aching for him.

At her words, Lucas turned to focus on her. “You found Kennedy.” He'd risen to his full height, but his shoulders were hunched, his body wavering a bit unsteadily.

She nodded.

“He . . . hurt her?”

He already knew that truth, and she found she couldn't say it again. “She's not hurting anymore.”

His eyes closed and tears tracked down his cheeks. Dace swore. She thought the detective had fully realized what she knew—­that the killer had just played them all.

He planted that phone here. One last bit of torture for Lucas Branson. One big screw-­you to the cops. The killer didn't make some overconfident mistake.

He played us like a pro.

“T
HE NEIGHBOR BACKED
up the story,” Dace said, his voice gruff. “He said Branson and his girl arrived just moments before we did. But the trace we got identified the call as coming
from
this location. It wasn't on the move, it was stationary.”

Wade watched as uniformed cops continued to sweep the scene—­Connie's house. “Did the neighbor get a good look at the man he saw in the backyard?”

“No, just said he was some guy wearing a black hoodie. He called out to him but the guy ran.”

“He ran because he was done with his job.”
Planting the phone. Throwing us off the trail.
And that worried Wade. He crossed his arms over his chest as he faced Dace. “The perp kept tabs on Branson over the years. He knew the guy had a fiancée, he knew where she lived, and he also knew when they'd both be gone.”
The creep knew when they had an appointment with a caterer that would keep them out of the house—­his perfect drop time.
And that created a whole new problem. Wade wanted Sarah brought in on this case, ASAP. Because the guy they were after here—­he was one twisted sonofabitch. “He wanted the cops to think that Branson had hurt Kennedy. He wanted this whole scene to go down exactly as it did.”

But . . . something was nagging at him. The killer could have just called Dace directly. He could have just called the police station with his fucking taunts.

He hadn't. He'd called Victoria instead.

His gaze slid toward her. She was talking softly with Branson's fiancée. Victoria always said she wasn't good with the living, but she sure seemed to be doing a fine job of comforting Connie. She didn't give herself enough credit.

“Why the hell would the guy do this?” Dace wanted to know.

Wade didn't get into the minds of killers, not the way Sarah did, but he had his suspicions. “Torture. Pain. That's his thing.” He nodded toward the patrol car. “He made sure that even at the end, when Kennedy finally was back, that her lover suffered more.”

Dace swore. “
I
made him suffer. I did exactly what the asshole out there wanted.”

“But it's not happening again. You're going to get him.
We're
going to get him.”

Dace stepped closer. “You know my captain is going to fight having you on this case. Kennedy—­yeah, that one he could let LOST cover. But Melissa? He's going to see her case as his domain from here on out.”

“Let him.” Wade shrugged. He
wanted
the cops involved. That didn't mean he was going to stop searching. “We were already hired by Jim Porter. He wanted us to find Melissa, and that's exactly what Victoria and I are going to do.” He knew Gabe would back him up on this one. There was no way that his best friend would pull him off this case, especially not with the chance Melissa was still alive.

Oh, hell, no, there would be no backing down. And the more manpower they had on the search, the better.

He intended to see Jim Porter ASAP. The guy needed to be brought up to speed on all the tangled shit that was happening with this case. But first . . . “You aren't going to charge Branson with anything.”

“What the hell
can
I charge him with? My captain wants an arrest, but I'm not taking in an innocent man.” Dace jerked a hand through his already disheveled hair. “We're going to interview him. We're going to collect any evidence that the killer might have left in the house, but no, I'm not about to put Lucas Branson under arrest.”

Wade's focus shifted back to the house. “Lucas and Connie need to be put up in a safe house, just for the next few days.”

Dace's laugh was bitter. “No way will the captain go for that. Our budget is stretched enough as it is.”

“LOST will foot the bill.” Again, he had no doubt that Gabe would back him up. “But if the killer has been watching them,” and Wade was sure he had, “they need a safe place. They need to get off his radar while we figure out what the SOB's next move is.”

Victoria was heading toward them.

“His next move,” Dace told him, voice only carrying to Wade's ears, “could be her.”

“The hell it will be.” His instant response. But . . . Wade was afraid the detective might be right, though it made no sense for the killer to contact Victoria. She should have barely been on his radar. They'd just arrived in town, but
something
had made the perp connect with her.

It was a connection Wade wanted to end.

Someone called out for Dace and the detective gave Wade a curt nod. “Look, I'll keep you updated and you do the same for me, got it? After all, we both have the same end goal here.”

Bringing in the missing girl alive.

Stopping the killer.

“Will do,” Wade said, and he watched as Dace hurried away.

Victoria eased closer to him. Her shoulder brushed against his arm. “I think the killer is playing with us.”

He did, too.

“The killer—­he wanted the cops to come storming up here. Calling me, staying on the line long enough for the cops to follow the signal from his phone . . . that wasn't a mistake.”

“No.” Wade agreed with her on that.

Her head tilted back as she studied him. “Why me?”

His back teeth ground together as he thought about just
why
the killer wanted her. Then he forced himself to say, “You were probably just convenient.”
Don't scare her.
“You won't hear from him again.”

She looked down at the ground. “I would have thought . . .” Her voice came slowly. “. . . that after everything else, all that I'd been through with LOST, you wouldn't try to hide the truth from me.”

Dammit.

“I don't think there are any coincidences or any conveniences with this guy,” she added.

Wade swallowed. “Then you tell me, baby. Why did he call you?”

Her lips parted. She was still looking at the ground, not him, and it took her a moment to say, “He told me that he knew things about me. Secrets.”

Wade wanted to know her secrets.

“I think we should get to Jekyll Island,” she said suddenly, as her gaze lifted. “He mentioned that place for a reason.”

“Or he mentioned it to throw us off track. To send us running in the wrong direction.” Just the mention of Jekyll Island made him tense. Shit, he knew that place—­and he didn't exactly have fond memories of the island. He'd grown up in Atlanta, but a few times he'd come with his mother and his brother to Jekyll on holiday.

An image of his brother Adam flashed in his mind, and the pain hit him hard—­just like the stab of a knife. He hadn't been back to Jekyll, not since that fucking day. What a cruel bitch fate was, to send this shit his way now.

Victoria gestured to the house. “This is the wrong direction. He said he wanted to trade. He said to go to Jekyll Island.” She straightened her spine. “That's what I'm doing.”

Then she turned away from him and started walking toward their SUV.

For a moment he just stared after her. No, no, she couldn't be serious.

But . . .

She was almost at the SUV.

I hate Jekyll. I'd be happy if I never saw that island again.

But he couldn't let Victoria go alone. Shit.
Shit.

He rushed after her. He had the keys, dammit, so she couldn't just leave without him. Knowing Victoria and her secrets, the woman probably knew how to hot-­wire a car. He caught her just before she reached for the door handle. His hand closed around her shoulder and he turned her back to face him. “No.” That one word was all he could manage right then. Fury choked him too hard.

“Uh,
no
?” She blinked. “
No
, what?”

He took a deep breath. Another. He smelled lavender. He could feel her delicate shoulder beneath his touch. But in his mind . . . he saw a knife. Could almost hear a woman's screams.

Not Kennedy's screams. Not Melissa's.

Victoria's.

“There is
no
trade.” It couldn't,
wouldn't
happen. The killer was focusing on Victoria, and Wade would figure out why the hell that was happening, but he wasn't just going to stand there while she offered ­herself up to him.

“If it saves Melissa . . .”

His hold tightened on her as he leaned in close, his body pressing to hers. “You don't risk your life, got it?” And he knew he sounded like a dick, but he couldn't help it. Too rough. Too angry.
Too scared 
. . . scared that something would happen to her.

“Am I just supposed to let her die? Is that what
you
would do if he'd asked you to make the trade instead?”

“It isn't me.”
It's you. You matter. You can't . . . I can't lose you.
But he didn't tell her any of that. Instead, Wade took another deep breath and made himself step back. “First thing we need to do . . . find Jim Porter. Let him know what's happening. Then, yes, we'll go to Jekyll Island.
Together.
You don't go off without me. I don't go off without you. We're partners, and we'll stay together every single moment.”

She shook her head. “We need to get there
now
—­”

“The killer was here in Savannah when he made that call to you. Jekyll Island is almost an hour from here. We check in with our client first, we call Gabe and update the rest of LOST, then we'll search Jekyll.” They had to do this thing right.

Her jaw locked, but Victoria said, “Fine, we'll play it your way.”

His way? His way would be to lock her up so she was far away from any danger, and that was not how he should be thinking. She was his partner, but they'd crossed a line when they became lovers, and keeping things professional, keeping his emotions out of the mix, was damn impossible. He wanted to protect her. Shield her from everyone and everything. But that wasn't the job.

Maybe it fucking should be.

He opened her door. He took out his phone and tried to call Jim. But the line just rang and rang, and finally his voice mail picked up. Wade left Jim a terse message, explaining that he needed to call, ASAP. Then he climbed into the SUV and dialed Gabe. He wasn't surprised that his friend picked up on the second ring.

“Tell me you've got news,” Gabe said immediately.

“Not the kind you're going to like.” Wade's fingers tapped on the steering wheel. “We found Kennedy Lane.”