When the Storm Breaks (26 page)

Washington, D.C.

Saturday evening

S
ean and Aidan were two blocks from Afton’s house when they heard the call sign of Claire’s surveillance team on the police scanner. Aidan was driving, so it was Sean who turned up the sound.

“Need medical examiner and CSU at backyard, this location. Female DOA, mid-twenties, brown eyes and dark curly hair.”

Sean’s stomach flipped. “Sweet Jesus Christ. It can’t be.” But he knew all too well that it could.

Aidan floored the accelerator for the last block, then hit the brakes for a squealing stop in front of the house. Sean bailed out before the car was fully stopped and ran up the steps. The front door wasn’t locked, which saved him the trouble of kicking it in. He ran through the entry and saw a flash of purple from the corner of his eye.

Claire was in the kitchen, head in her hands, wearing her short purple robe. She looked up at him as the front door slammed into the hallway so hard that it punched through the drywall.

The relief Sean felt overwhelmed him. With a muffled sound that was her name, he rushed into the kitchen and swept Claire up in a bone-crunching hug.

“Are you all right?” Sean asked, his voice raw with emotion. He could feel the tremors shaking her body.

“Yes. Oh, Sean.” She wrapped her arms around him and held on with all her strength. She felt her eyes start to sting with tears, but she was afraid to give in to the emotions that were tearing her apart. Instead, she buried her head in the curve of Sean’s neck and blocked out everything but him.

Sean closed his eyes, letting his face drop into the damp warmth of her curls. He pressed desperate kisses everywhere he could reach—her hair, forehead, cheeks, eyes. He breathed in her scent repeatedly and willed his heart to start beating normally again. He was only distantly aware of Aidan pulling Officer Peterson out of the kitchen to request an update.

After several minutes, Sean gently set Claire back down on the floor. He cupped her cheeks with both hands and looked into her shadowed eyes before kissing her lingeringly on the lips. She tried to reassure him with a weak smile.

“I’m all right,” she said. “Really.”

He dropped his forehead onto hers. “Sweetheart, I thought you were dead. I thought Peterson was reporting that he’d found
your
body in the backyard.”

“Oh.” Her heart turned over at the look on his face.

“Yeah, ‘Oh.’ You took ten years off my life.”

“To tell you the truth, I thought I was dead, too.”

“What the hell happened here tonight?”

Her lips trembled as she remembered coming face-to-face with the killer in the backyard. “I saw him. He put a
dead woman in the backyard. And he was standing not ten feet away from me. He looked at me and said my name.”

“Jesus.”

She shivered and whispered raggedly, “He said I was next.”

She flinched at the vicious words that came out of Sean’s mouth. He saw her reaction and pulled her to him again. “It’s all right, sweetheart. We’ll get him, I promise.”

She nodded and held on hard to him. It was the only way she would be able to keep herself from falling apart completely, and that was the last thing anyone needed from her right now.

“Everything okay in here?” Aidan asked from the doorway.

“She’s fine,” Sean said, stepping back from Claire reluctantly.

“Then you don’t mind if I do this,” Aidan said, coming into the kitchen and catching Claire up in a bear hug of his own. He landed a smacking kiss on her lips before she could catch her breath.

“You scared the shit out of us, lady.”

Claire hugged Aidan back. “I was pretty scared, too.”

Feeling tears threaten again, she ended the hug and stepped back, struggling for her disappearing composure. She straightened her shoulders and tightened the belt on her robe, knowing she had to hold herself together for a little while longer.

“I appreciate your concern, both of you. But there’s someone outside who needs you more right now.”

“Claire—” Sean began, concerned by her visible effort to control herself.

“No. You need to go do your job. I’ll be fine right here.
Believe me, I’m not going anywhere. But you need to do what—what you can for her. She looked so—so
small.
”

Aidan went out the back door and out onto the porch.

Turning away from Sean, she went to a cupboard and began taking out the makings for coffee and tea. She measured scoops of ground coffee and poured them into the coffeemaker. Her hands barely shook.

Sean looked at the strong line of her back for a long moment, then brushed a hand over her wild curls and said, “Have I told you how great you are?”

He was in the backyard before she could answer.

Washington, D.C.

Saturday evening

S
ean went outside to where Aidan was making notes on the murder scene. They both stood over the body for several minutes, studying the details and mentally comparing them to previous cases. There was no blood or sign of a struggle in the yard.

“He stabbed her somewhere else and dumped the body here. No blood on the scene here—and probably not on him—because he wrapped her in the raincoat after she was dead,” Sean said.

Aidan nodded. “He’s changing his routine. He wants to make a statement. Look at the wig—he doesn’t like blondes. He likes dark-haired women. But he wanted us to think it was Afton.” He shook his head as he took in the blonde wig with its trendy pixie cut.

“Wrong,” Sean said. “He wanted
Claire
to find the body and think it was Afton. He’s playing with her emotions. He’s building up to something big, and really getting off in the process. Keeley warned me about this.”

“And the killer is improvising, too,” Aidan pointed out.
“I think the actual encounter with Claire wasn’t planned. But once he got here and the opportunity presented itself, he couldn’t resist the temptation.”

“He’s taking bigger and bigger chances to get to her,” Sean said grimly.

They looked back toward the house. Claire stood on the top step waiting for them to notice her.

“I’ve got coffee and tea for whoever wants it. Sodas as well,” she said, as if she were offering refreshments at a backyard barbeque.

“Thanks. Is the sketch artist here?” Sean asked.

“In the kitchen drinking coffee.”

“Work with her, okay? Then get some rest. It’s going to be a long night.”

She hesitated, then went back into the house. Sean turned as Peterson and Stokes walked through the back gate with frustration evident on their faces.

“We’ve done a thorough check of the alley and the roads all the way up to O Street and the university gates, and we’ve got nothing,” Officer Peterson said in disgust. “It’s all paved, so there are no footprints. No trash or papers left behind. No one saw anything or even heard a dog bark. What is this guy, a ghost?”

Sean said nothing, just examined the broken padlock and open gate. He turned his head and looked toward the house, realizing that Claire’s room overlooked the backyard. With the drapes open, he could see right into the room. At the moment, she was standing in front of the closet. He watched her select some clothing from there before moving toward the bathroom.

“We’ve got to get both of them out of here,” Sean said.

Aidan followed Sean’s gaze. “The normal safe house is already being used by a witness from a drug trial. I don’t
think we want Claire or Olivia anywhere near that sleaze-bag. I guess we could use a hotel.”

Sean shook his head and checked his watch. “I want them to go to separate locations anyway. There’s a chance the killer has been tracking Claire through Olivia’s movements. I want to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Any idea when Olivia will be back?” Aidan asked.

“No. Peterson said she went shopping at one of those outlet malls, so it could be a while. Her cell phone is off.”

Aidan shoved his hands in his pockets and waited, knowing what was coming next.

“I’m going to take Claire somewhere and lie low for about thirty-six hours,” Sean said. “No one—not even the surveillance team—will know where we are. I’ll take the sedan. Someone at the station can drop my truck off for you when you’re ready to take Olivia to her new location.”

“If that’s the way you want to do things,” Aidan said.

“It is. Once I’m sure the killer has been thrown off the scent, we’ll find a safe location for both of them.”

Aidan considered remaining silent, then thought better of it. “For someone who’s trying to keep his distance from a witness, you’re sure going about it in an odd way.”

Sean gave his partner a hard look. “Someone needs to protect her. She knows and trusts me.”

“And what about when we got here tonight?”

“What about it? I was glad to see she was alive. She needed to be held.”

“But you needed it more,” Aidan said. “I felt like I was intruding on a very intimate scene.”

“Christ, you make it sound like we had sex right there in the kitchen,” Sean said, ignoring the fact that he and Claire had once very nearly done just that.

“No, but sometimes emotional intimacy is more dangerous
than sex,” Aidan shot back. “And what’s more, you know it, since you’ve spent your entire adult life avoiding it.”

“Do you really want to get into my past history with women right now?” Sean asked between his teeth, aware of the fact they were not alone.

“I’m not attacking you. I just want to make sure you’re thinking straight. I want you to ask yourself why you’re breaking all the rules with Claire, and whether you’re doing her any favors by acting this way in the middle of a homicide investigation.”

They were both silent, aware that Sean’s behavior today had edged over the line of professionalism—again. Only this time there were witnesses.

But the truth of the matter was, he wouldn’t do things any differently if given the choice. Even now he felt an overwhelming need to find Claire, to hold her close to him and make sure she was going to be okay, mentally as well as physically. And he would do just that, once he got her out of here.

“She could have died today,” Sean said. “Do you think I give a rat’s ass about the rules right now?”

“No.”

“I’m taking Claire with me. You can read into that whatever you want. I want her in a secure location for a day or two while we look for a more permanent arrangement. They’re not coming back here.”

Aidan sighed and gave in. “Johnston and his family are leaving for ten days. Caribbean cruise or something. Maybe we can use his house in Alexandria once they’re gone.”

“Good idea. Would you take care of that with Johnston and the captain?”

“Sure.”

Aidan turned back to the dead woman, thinking how damn glad he was that it wasn’t Claire. He couldn’t imagine what Sean had felt before he’d found out that Claire was alive.

“I’ll see if there are any missing persons matching her description—either blonde or brunette,” Aidan said.

Sean nodded, but didn’t feel optimistic. The victim, while having a superficial resemblance to Afton with the wig, was obviously a young woman used to hard living. Needle tracks scarred her dirty arms. She looked like she’d existed on the edge of civilized society—a woman who wouldn’t be missed anytime soon. A quick and easy kill.

He told me I was next.

Sean’s gut clenched, but he didn’t say anything—he just studied the corpse as the Crime Scene Unit pulled up in the alley behind Afton’s house. Aidan stepped aside as the team began to set up.

“Put a rush on all lab work, especially fingerprints,” Sean said as he stepped back. “It looks like she was killed somewhere else, so we’ve got another crime scene somewhere in the city. Keep an eye out for anything that would help find it.”

“We’ll let you know as soon as we’ve got something, Detective,” the supervisor promised. “Believe me, this case is getting top priority for labs and manpower.”

For the next hour Sean and Aidan watched the crime scene team carefully gather evidence while early darkness descended. When the medical examiner’s van came to pick up the body, the detectives went back into the house, knowing there was little else they could do that night. Peterson was gulping a cup of hot coffee in the kitchen.

“Where’s Claire?” Sean asked.

“Upstairs.”

Sean found Claire standing by the window in a dark room. He went to her and looked down. Someone was bringing a body bag through the back gate. He closed the drapes and flipped on a light before he turned to Claire.

“Don’t torture yourself,” he said. “There was nothing you could do about any of it.”

Claire ran a listless hand through curls that were still damp. “All I can think of is that poor girl was murdered for no other reason than to terrify me. And it did. When I thought that body was Afton, I…” Her voice died.

Sean kept his hands in his pockets. It was either that or reach for her, and this wasn’t a good time or place. “The killer gets off on power, on being in control.”

“He—he seems unreal, like a ghost, not human.” She tilted her head back and shook hair out of her eyes.

“He’s human,” Sean said, “even though we’d feel better about the human race if he wasn’t. But he’s a real person with real fingerprints and real mental problems. He can be analyzed, understood, and caught.”

“Can he? This house is under police surveillance, and he killed her—”

“Not here,” Sean cut in.

“—dumped the body,” she continued without a pause, “had a chat with me and wasn’t spotted by the police. Did any of the neighbors see him?”

“We’ve got a team out asking.”

“Did they see him?” she insisted.

Sean sighed. “No. He’s either really stupid or really willing to take risks.”

“He isn’t stupid. He knew just what buttons to push to terrify me. The blonde wig, the threat.”

“Up to now we’ve been forced to play the game his way. That stops now. Pack up, Claire. You’re leaving.”

“What about Livvie?”

“Aidan will take care of her. I’m taking you someplace quiet for a day or two, until we find another house.”

“All right, I’m ready.” Claire pointed to her bags, which were neatly lined up by the door. “I knew I wouldn’t be staying here.”

Sean took Claire’s large bag and let her lead the way downstairs. She went out the front door without a glance at the lights and activity at the rear of the house. The front yard was so normal it made her shiver.

He settled her into the front seat of the car. When she didn’t pick up her seat belt, he reached across her to fasten it. He started the engine, worried by her silence. They drove without speaking for several minutes.

“Did tonight help you remember anything from the other murder?” Sean asked.

“No. Just that this guy is real and I can’t forget for a moment he’s out there.”

“He’s real, but he’s not going to get another chance at you, so don’t think about it.”

“What about future dates with Camelot?” Claire said, thinking about her role in the investigation.

“Your dating days are history. From now on, you don’t leave my sight. No one but me knows where you’re staying. Neither you nor Olivia will be going back to work, or even calling in to the office. Hell, I don’t even want you logging into the network remotely, okay? No grocery shopping, no day spas, nothing that has been part of your routine for the last month.”

Claire was too numb to argue, and instead looked out the window. She was so emotionally spent that she could
barely respond to what was happening around her. The only thing she could do was bounce between the blankness in the dead girl’s eyes and Sean’s urgent, protective embrace.

Finally Claire closed her eyes and put her head against the seat. She didn’t move until Sean unfastened her seat belt and said, “We’re here.”

“Here” was a beautiful hotel with an excellent security system. Sean ignored the bellman, carried their bags, and showed Claire to the door of the suite. He put her bags in the bedroom and went straight to the lavish bathroom. Soon hot water was thundering from the elaborate faucet on the jetted tub. He added a few colorful bath bubbles for the hell of it.

“Go in and soak,” he said. “If you don’t relax your muscles, you’ll never sleep tonight.”

Automatically Claire looked over at the suite’s only bed.

“When I’m ready to turn in, I’ll take the foldout bed in the living room,” he said, stuffing a plush hotel robe into her hands. “I’ll order dinner and a bottle of wine from room service while you steam up the place. Any preferences?”

The thought of food made her wince. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I didn’t ask whether you were hungry, I asked whether you wanted to choose what you’re going to eat or not.”

She smiled faintly at his surly response. “Something light, I guess. Whatever. I trust you.”

She went into the bathroom and closed the door, twisting her hair into a knot on top of her head. She took off her clothes and slipped into the hot, foamy water with a sigh. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door.

“Are you decent?” Sean asked.

“I’m wearing what people usually wear in the bath.”

“Better dive into the suds. I’m bringing you something.”

She sank to her chin in the bubbles, feeling ridiculously shy with a man who was—or had been—her lover.

Sean walked in carrying a brimming glass of red wine. “I found this in the liquor cabinet. I want you to drink the whole thing. It will help you to take the edge off your adrenaline high.”

She eyed the huge glass. If she drank it she would lose some of the emotional control she’d been rebuilding shred by shred. On the other hand, she might also forget the sight of the dead girl’s eyes and the killer’s twisted smile.

“Medicine, huh?” she asked.

“Definitely.”

Claire reached for the glass and took a healthy swallow. Raising her eyebrow at Sean as he continued to hover, she took another gulp to satisfy him.

“I’ll call you when dinner gets here,” he said, closing the door as he left the steamy bathroom.

Sighing, Claire idly rubbed her big toe around the spigot, catching the occasional drop of hot water that still fell into the bubbles surrounding her. She sipped and sipped again, deciding that the wine was the tastiest medicine she’d ever had. Between that and the bath, she was feeling warm for the first time since she’d heard Afton’s back gate banging in the wind.

Suddenly she was seeing a corpse and vacant dark eyes.
No
, she told herself,
I’m not going there tonight. Tonight I’m going to concentrate on life and living.

Sean.

It was time to quit fooling herself. Her last thoughts before going to sleep were about him, and first thoughts on waking. The day didn’t really begin until she saw him. She’d never felt more alive than when she was with
that impossible, infuriating, tender, and incredibly wonderful man.