When the Storm Breaks (29 page)

Washington, D.C.

Late Sunday afternoon

A
idan was seated at his desk, but he jumped up when Sean and Claire walked in.

“Any problems?” Aidan asked.

“We’re clean. No one even tried to follow us.”

“Good. I’ll take her and Olivia to Johnston’s place in a sedan with tinted windows, and we’ll have a couple of unmarked cars ride along behind.”

“Where’s Livvie?” Claire asked.

“I put her in the conference room. You should go to her before the captain—”

“Richter!”

Sean snapped to attention at the sound of his name being barked out by Captain Michaels. Like a man about to face a firing squad, he turned toward his supervisor.

“Sir.”

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but it stops right here. Do you understand me?” Michaels was red-faced as he came to a stop three feet away from Sean.

“Yes,” Sean said. He’d broken just about every rule
there was and would take the fallout without complaint, if only because he’d ended up putting Claire at risk.

“You’re a good investigator, one of the best I’ve known. But you’ve lost your objectivity on this case.” The captain shot a look at Claire, who was sitting white-faced and miserable at Sean’s desk.

Sean bit his tongue and remembered Aidan’s advice about groveling. “Yes, sir.”

“The only reason I’m not going to fire your ass is I know this isn’t like you. You’ve never so much as looked sideways at anyone involved in one of your cases. But whatever is going on between you and the witness ends here.”

Claire’s head snapped up at this, but she stayed quiet when Aidan placed a warning hand on her shoulder.

“As of this moment, I’m pulling you from lead investigator role,” Michaels said. “You are to have no further contact with Ms. Lambert until this case is closed. Is that clear?”

She visibly flinched as Sean said, “Yes, sir.”

“That’s a direct order. It’s also for Ms. Lambert’s own protection, given that the killer may be using you as a way to find her. I also feel that Ms. Lambert needs to be guarded by someone who is less emotionally involved in the case.”

“I would never do anything to endanger her or anyone else on the case,” Sean said angrily.

“Jesus, I know that,” the captain said, disgusted. “It’s the only reason I haven’t kicked your ass off the force for being such a stupid son of a bitch. But that doesn’t mean I’m not pulling you. I’ve already set up another team to take over guard duty. Burke asked to take the lead, and I agreed.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sean said, feeling his knees go weak with relief.

“I’m placing you in charge of forensic evidence and continued background checks of suspects. Burke has agreed to assist you, even if that means working remotely from the safe house,” Captain Michaels said.

Sean looked over at his cousin, knowing that meant Aidan had basically agreed to work twenty-four hours a day until the case was solved. He swallowed hard and glanced briefly at Claire’s down-turned head. At least she would be safe with Aidan watching over her.

“You and Burke will have two calls a day, once every twelve hours, to update each other and hand off the active parts of the investigation,” Michaels said. “You’d better catch this guy, and soon. We can’t afford a twenty-four seven operation for very long.”

Sean let out a silent sigh of relief. He was getting off easy, probably because the captain knew Sean would be harder on himself than anyone else would be.

“Ms. Lambert and her friend will remain at Johnston’s home in Virginia under protective custody,” Michaels said. “Neither one will leave, nor will they discuss their location with anyone. Burke has the details on the rest of the operation and will fill you in.” He turned away. “I’ve got a press conference to set up.”

“Captain,” Claire said.

He stopped and met her gaze for the first time.

“I want you to know that it was never my intention to place anyone in a difficult situation,” she said. “I asked to be part of this team, and since then Detective Richter has been a model of professionalism—”

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you have a hickey on your neck?” Captain Michaels said.

She flushed to the roots of her hair. The captain looked at her with eyes that had seen everything, but even his
cynicism couldn’t overlook the tangible connection between Claire and Sean.

“Ms. Lambert,” he said, and his voice softened. “I understand that my investigators are human. But they’re also officers of the law, and their behavior is held to higher standards than yours. If it were anyone else but Sean, I’d have his badge, weapon, and balls—in that order.”

“But it’s not his fault!”

Michaels ignored her and looked at Sean. “Five minutes, Detective. You have the lead in the press conference. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Michaels stalked off.

“Sean, I’m so sorry,” Claire said. “I never should have…”
Thrown myself at you.
She glanced sideways at Aidan and flushed even more.

“I have to stay,” Aidan said unhappily. “You’re my job, now.”

But he stepped back to give them as much privacy as he could in the busy room.

“I shouldn’t have made you an offer you couldn’t refuse,” Claire said miserably, looking down at her clenched hands. “You told me this would happen. You said you could lose your job, but I wasn’t thinking about that. I was just thinking about me.”

Sean sat on his heels in front of her and took her hands in his, waiting until she met his eyes. “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t change a single thing about last night or the first night or any of it. When this is over, we’re going to have a serious talk about your taste for red wine and seduction, but in the meantime I’m going to live on the memory in the lonely nights to come.”

“How can you joke about this?” Claire asked.

“It’s that or start busting furniture,” Sean said, squeezing her hand.

“But I won’t see you until this is over. Who knows how long that will be?”

“It should be very soon now that we know he’s trying to follow me.”

“But he’s dangerous! You could be hurt or—God, Sean. Why don’t you remove yourself from the case entirely? It scares me that the killer is focused on you.”

“Better me than you.”

She knew she couldn’t change his mind. Nor should she continue to try. His job was hard enough without having to worry about her weeping and clinging to him.

Still, she tightened her grip around his hands, painfully aware that she didn’t know when she would see him again. She tried to speak, to tell him about the emotions that were shaking her, but her throat closed with the tears she refused to shed in front of him.

“It’s going to be all right,” he said.

He released one of her hands to cradle her cheek and kiss her gently, sweetly. Her breath came in on a sob, so he kissed her again before forcing himself to stand up. He kept Claire’s hand clutched tightly in his as he pulled her to her feet and turned to face his partner.

“Take good care of her,” Sean said in a strained voice. He looked at Claire again. “You do what Aidan says. Be strong, and remember—no regrets.”

She nodded. Sean brought her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into her palm, then turned and walked away.

She watched as he left, feeling lost, scared, and guilty as hell for seducing him.

“Hey,” Aidan said, putting his arm around her and guiding her back to the conference room where Olivia waited.
“Show me some of that ass-kicking spirit all you Louisiana girls seem to have.”

Claire reached deep inside her for a strength she wasn’t sure she had, telling herself that she wouldn’t—would
not
—cry. If Sean could crack jokes instead of breaking furniture, she could suck it up and make jokes with the best of them.

“So does this mean we’re partners now?” she asked, her voice husky with the emotions she was suppressing.

“Why the hell not? I’ve never had a female partner before,” Aidan said.

“Can I drive the squad car?”

Aidan laughed and pretended he didn’t notice Claire’s trembling lower lip.

Washington, D.C.

Tuesday morning

T
he man sat in his apartment dining room and carefully arranged his breakfast and newspaper before him in what had become a daily ritual. Today he added the noise of the local morning news show. He was looking for updates on the murder investigation, and was sure there would be something in one of the lead stories of the broadcast.

His efficient kitchen was air-conditioned almost to the point of being cold, so the steamy morning outside had no impact on him as he sat in his business suit. His hand was steady as he flipped through the newspaper, looking for any article on the case. Nothing in the main section. He set it carefully aside and forced himself to cut a piece of cantaloupe and eat it before reaching for the metro news section. He turned the pages slowly, then faster, as he found nothing of interest. He finally pushed the newspaper aside with a controlled motion and switched his attention to the television.

It had been three days since he’d last seen Marie Claire.

He’d been close enough to touch her on Saturday evening but hadn’t been able to find her since. Her disappearance was starting to make him very angry. He’d come to rely on the feeling of anticipation and pleasure that seeing her gave him. It was so enjoyable that he’d been driven to take the almost crazy risk of delivering a body to Claire underneath the nose of her police guard.

He’d almost gotten caught and knew he had only himself to blame for it. This is what happened when he broke the rules.

There had always been rules, and he’d always followed them. But lately his own rules had bored him, so he’d changed them. First there was that night with the pretty schoolteacher, when he’d chosen a location that was different from the others, more public. Because of that, he’d run into the complication of Marie Claire.

Marie Claire had ruined everything for him that night, and everything since then. He hadn’t even enjoyed killing the whore and stuffing her hair into a blonde wig. It was all Marie Claire’s fault. He spent too much time following her and figuring out how to get her attention without getting caught.

Dropping a body at her feet had been risky. Speaking directly to her afterward had been undisciplined. And following the cop’s truck had been just plain stupid. But he’d been desperate to keep tabs on Marie Claire.

Nothing would be right until he killed her.

The longer she was out of his sight, the more panicked he felt. He had to find her before somebody noticed how long he’d been gone from his job. Even with his cushy figurehead position at his father’s company, an unplanned
“vacation” that stretched into five weeks would start people asking questions.

When he realized he’d begun to sweat, he used a napkin to wipe his forehead.

Think and plan. Logic and discipline are the only way to make things right.

First, he would assess any known threats, then take appropriate steps to neutralize them. Since there were no new stories in the paper, it didn’t seem like the police were following any hot leads that might bring them to his door.

The man’s attention shifted to the television, where the local news was finally broadcasting an update on the murder investigations. He listened as the morning anchor reported that the police had no new leads, nor had they made any official comments since a press conference on Sunday afternoon.

He sat up in his chair as the footage switched to tape, and he saw the familiar face of the dark-haired cop standing in front of a cluster of microphones. He smiled as the cop’s identity was confirmed by the small type at the bottom of his television screen.

Detective Sean Richter.

The name matched the registration he’d stolen from the truck on Saturday night. He’d thought the cop would lead him straight to Marie Claire once more, but Detective Richter had changed the game. The bastard had actually hidden her away somewhere new.

That hardly seemed fair.

The man considered the problem for a while, running through a number of possibilities and evaluating them based on speed, risk, and magnitude of mess. He finally
decided he’d have to take a chance on quick and messy, because he really was running out of time.

He looked at his watch and pushed back from the table decisively. He’d have to hurry to be on time for his appointment at Camelot this afternoon.

Washington, D.C.

Tuesday afternoon

“Y
our noon appointment is here,” Afton’s receptionist said.

Afton glanced up from the work she was doing on the database and rubbed her forehead. “Isn’t it Friday yet? Or at least time to go home?”

“Sorry, it’s only Tuesday. Do you want me to have your appointment wait in the conference room?”

“No, show him back here.” She stood and stretched her tight muscles. Since the newspaper had run the story about the murders and linked Camelot’s name to the case, she’d been buried in calls. More new clients had come in during the last two days than in the previous month.

A tall, dark-haired man stepped into her office, and she walked around the desk to greet him. “Mr. Wilson, I’m Afton Gallagher, owner of Camelot.”

“Please, call me John. I’m not much on formality.” The man smiled at her briefly, then took the seat she indicated.

“How can I help you?” Afton asked.

“Well, it’s a little embarrassing, but I’ve just moved
here and I’ve been having a lot of trouble meeting women. I thought about joining a matchmaking agency to jump-start the process. I’m an engineer, so of course I felt the need to research all the dating services in the area. I’m currently in the middle of interviewing their owners to find the one that best suits me, but I’m getting a little anxious for results.”

“I’d be happy to answer any questions you might have about Camelot.”

“How long have you owned the business?”

Afton hesitated. “I inherited it from my sister when she died a few months ago.”

“Oh. Well, you seem very organized. What I’d really like to do is take a look through your list of eligible candidates,” Wilson said. “I’d like to see the caliber of woman your service attracts before I commit myself to membership.”

“I can certainly understand that. However, we’ve recently implemented new security policies, and only members are allowed to review the catalogues.”

“None of the other agencies had any problems giving me a quick peek.” The man raised an eyebrow. His blue eyes watched for any signs of flexibility.

“I’m sorry. With all the publicity the whole dating service industry has had in the city, I have no choice but to support the rules.”

“Yes, I recall reading something in the paper the other day.” John leaned forward, as if to invite her confidences. “Is Camelot under investigation or something?”

“Absolutely not. We’ve done everything we can to assist the police, even though it hasn’t helped any that I can see. But the whole affair has underlined the importance of having firm security policies.”

“Yes,” he said, “I suppose you can never be too careful.”

“We’re a very thorough company,” Afton said. “Your satisfaction is our goal. If you join the service and for any reason are not happy with the female clients in our catalogue, we’ll gladly refund your money.”

“All right, you’ve convinced me.” He reached into his coat pocket for his billfold. “I’ll pay for the membership right now.”

“Wonderful. I just need to have you fill out this questionnaire, including some of your personal information. Once we get a routine background check done, you’ll be able to go through our catalogue and contact any of the ladies listed there.”

Wilson put his billfold back. “Questionnaire? Background check? How long does this whole process take?”

“Usually about three days.”

“But I don’t have that much time. I have a dinner party at my vice president’s home tomorrow night. If I don’t come with a date—” The man broke off and winced.

“I’m really sorry. We could possibly expedite the background check, but we couldn’t get it back before tomorrow night.”

He shrugged sheepishly. “I guess I put things off too long. Isn’t there any way around this little glitch?”

“I don’t see how,” Afton said regretfully.

“Even if it means losing business?” The man’s smile invited her to understand that a background check really wasn’t necessary in his case.

“I’m afraid so. I wish there were some way I could help you.”

“It’s my fault for letting things go so late.” Wilson stood and walked out of the office without letting his feelings show.

While he hadn’t been able to verify that Marie Claire
was a member, at least he’d learned the dating service hadn’t been able to provide the police with any concrete information for the investigation. Hopefully the attention would shift away from Afton Gallagher’s company entirely. Even if it didn’t, the only person who might have tipped off the police about his link to Camelot was dead.

Now, finally, it was time to find where his sweet prey was hiding.