Killer's Prey (14 page)

“I wouldn’t believe you,” she whispered.

“Nor should you. I’m just wishing. If I had the power, I’d erase this whole thing from your life.”

“I’d still be in Minneapolis,” she murmured. For once, that didn’t seem like such a good thing. As he held her, she knew that being here, just as she was, appealed to her more than recovering her old life. As if she could. Those days would never come back.

“I know. And I’d have been very sorry to have missed this chance to get to know you again. If none of those bad things had happened, I would have missed this.”

At first the words struck her poorly, but then she realized what he was saying. He wouldn’t have missed her if she’d stayed away, but now that she was back, he felt he would have missed something but for her return.

A little kernel of warmth sprouted in her heart, easing the icy world she had entered the night of the attack. “Thank you. I’m glad to be getting to know you, too. We’ve changed a lot.”

“For some of that I say, thank God.” His tone sounded faintly humorous. “Looking back at my teen years seldom makes me proud. Amazing how egocentric we are at that age.”

“It’s normal.”

“I’m sure it is. But it’s still amazing in retrospect. In some ways we were so full of ourselves, so sure we were going to do better than our parents, create a better world, solve all its problems. I doubt you were part of some those conversations, but a gang of us would sit up late into the night, busy talking about how things should be. I don’t rightly notice that many of us changed a damn thing when push came to shove.”

“We’re still young,” she remarked.

“Yeah, but still. You at least helped little kids.”

“And you keep us safe from drunk drivers.”

“That doesn’t quite measure up to creating world peace,” he said ironically.

She tipped her head back a little but could only see his chin. Stubble had begun to sprout there, indicating that he had a heavy beard, one he seemed remarkably good at shaving away every morning. “We each do our little part,” she said.

“I guess. And small enough it seems sometimes. But man, we used to dream big. Now I’d settle for just being able to keep one woman safe.”

She turned her face into his shoulder and sighed, letting go of a piece of the perpetual tension. “You make me feel safer,” she admitted quietly.

“I’m glad. I just wish I could guarantee it.”

There was no answer to that. Not a one. She was still trapped in the web, and she could still feel it vibrating with threat.

“I feel,” she admitted reluctantly, “as if he’s getting closer. I know that sounds crazy....” She trailed off. It
did
sound crazy.

“I don’t know,” he said after a few seconds. “He might be smart enough to get the hell out of the country, but from what you said...”

She bit her lip, turning her head so her cheek once again rested against his shoulder. “I studied serial-killer psychology in college.”

“My God, why?”

“Part of studying deviant psychology. We had to know at least some of it in order to recognize warning signs. Anyway, we got into it some. They’re compelled, Jake. They’re not in control of themselves all the time. The need comes over them like an altered state of consciousness, and starts driving them. How long they have before they act can vary, but once that need takes over, they’ll act eventually. Some killers pick their victims at random, strangers off a street, by the way they look, or move, whatever. But they start hunting as the need grows.”

“You think this guy is hunting you?”

“I don’t know that he’s a serial killer. I don’t know that his psychology deviates that way. But I know how he responded to defiance or any sign of resistance. My survival was defiant. That’s how he’ll see it. I’m sure of it. So yes, I think he’s hunting me. I don’t think he’s going to leave the country until he’s done teaching me his lesson.”

Jake swore. “Okay, I’m going to tell Gage we need to get on even higher alert somehow.”

“How can you? There are just so many cops and deputies around here, and a lot of wide-open space. This place is more porous than a sieve. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

For a long time he didn’t say anything. “Then I’ll keep you with me every damn moment.”

“That’s impossible and you know it. You have a job. Two, actually. But I can’t ride patrol with you all the time. I have a job. I need that job. I’ve got bills, like everyone else. I need a car. I’ve got to work—my savings won’t last forever.”

Again he fell silent, his arms holding her a little closer as if his embrace could somehow solve the problem. “I’m definitely talking to Gage in the morning,” he said. “He knows people. All kinds of people. I’m sure there’s something we can ramp up.”

“Or I could be wrong, and he could be smart enough to run.”

She felt him shake his head. “You’re the psychologist. I’m betting on your instincts, not some pie-in-the-sky hope. Better to spend the resources and not need them than not have them and need them.”

That seemed to close the subject. He was determined to do anything he could, and at some level that helped. Just knowing somebody gave that much of a damn helped. She wasn’t alone.

It had been a long, long time since she had felt that way.

He surprised her by reaching up to tip her chin toward him with his fingertips. Then he utterly astonished her by kissing her, just a gentle, brief touch of his warm lips against hers.

Instantly every other concern flew from her head. That a kiss could have the power to fill her with heat, to expand the nagging need deep inside her into an aching pool of fire, amazed her. Every cell in her body suddenly seemed to want to reach out to him.

“You’re not alone,” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “And as long as I breathe, you won’t be until this is over for good. I mean that.”

It was a vow. She wasn’t sure how he could keep it, but it felt good, settling into her like a warm, cuddly blanket.

Amazing to realize that never in her life had she felt as cherished as she did right then. Not her parents, not a boyfriend, not any friend, had given her the feeling that promise did.

She wouldn’t hold him to it, but it still made her feel so good in places that seemed to have been empty her entire life.

For a brief space, just a brief space, it almost all seemed worth it.

* * *

Jake held her on his lap for a long time. Some part of him didn’t want to let go, as if he feared she’d slip away and never come back. Crazy way to feel. Maybe her fears were infecting him ever more strongly.

But finally he sent her up to bed, pausing to kiss her once more, gently, demanding nothing, asking nothing, even though he wanted to ask for everything.

It was an internal struggle, one she didn’t need to know about. She had enough on her mind, and plenty of healing yet to do.

But he stayed awake for a long time, busying himself with carrying the untouched mugs of cocoa out to the kitchen and emptying them so Rosa wouldn’t know they hadn’t been drunk, rinsing them for easier cleaning in the morning. He knew better than to go beyond that.

He smiled wryly at his reflection in the dark window over the sink. Rosa had taken him in hand, and he had no doubt about who ruled within the walls of this house.

Al, on the other hand, took no such position in dealing with the ranch. He was a good man, capable of a whole lot, tireless and eager, but he was always careful of the boss-employee positions. He hoped someday that Al would get as uppity as Rosa.

But all of that was distraction and he knew it. What had started as a native impulse to help someone in trouble, a need to atone for his actions of so long ago, was transforming into something much stronger, and maybe that wasn’t smart.

When they caught this guy, Nora would probably want to rebuild her life in Minneapolis. She hadn’t talked about it all that much, but he had gathered she liked it there, had liked her work. One crazy man had stripped it all from her.

Just as her father had stripped her of childhood. Damn, he got heartburn just thinking about Fred Loftis. Thoughts of Langdon filled him with fury, but Loftis gave him serious heartburn.

He couldn’t imagine the cruelties, both major and minor, that Nora had grown up with and concealed from the world. He wished there was some way to make up for it, but he was no magician with a wand to wave.

Nora had been repeatedly hurt, and no amount of wishing or any number of magical incantations could wash that away. Tonight he had held one of the most damaged people he had ever known, and it had forced him to face his every shortcoming. He could never take it away, probably couldn’t even make any of it any better.

No kissing away this boo-boo or putting a bandage on it.

But at the same time he’d faced his limitations, he’d recognized her inherent strength. God, she was strong. She had proved it beyond any question. He felt a huge admiration for her, and figured a lesser person might have been reduced to a puddle by all she had been through.

And now, as terrified as she was, she wanted to learn self-defense. She wasn’t running, although the thought must have occurred to her, but was standing firmly in place, facing her terror, facing the possible arrival of her enemy.

She was magnificent, and probably didn’t begin to realize it.

Nor was he going to ignore her evaluation of the guy. She alone knew him, knew the violence of which he was capable. She alone of anyone around here could evaluate that man. If she believed he wouldn’t give up, then Jake believed it, too.

He stared out the window, looking past his own reflection, and for the first time in his life saw threat in the darkness outside.

He knew what was out there, every damn inch of it. He’d been walking and riding over that land his entire life. He knew every knoll, every dip, every tree, bush and sapling. He’d watched some of those trees grow from mere sprouts on the ground. He’d raised hay and alfalfa and stored it for long winters. He’d tended calves, cows and steers, and more horses than he had in his corral right now.

By closing his eyes, he could choose to see any part of it in his mind’s eye, familiar as a photograph. And never had any of it seemed threatening.

The weather could sometimes be threatening, or a snake. Coyotes could be a pain. The wolves had left him alone and he doubted they were bothering some of the other ranchers as much as they complained. Coyotes and dogs were aggressive. Hell, he’d faced more trouble from feral dogs than the wolves.

But whatever problems had lain out there, from disease to predators, never had the darkness held a threat.

Now it did.

Darkness would provide the perfect environment for Langdon. As Nora had so correctly pointed out, no amount of law enforcement could make this county impermeable. These wide-open spaces, the endless square miles, could allow anyone to approach surreptitiously, either on foot or in a vehicle. If he avoided town, no one would notice someone who just appeared to be driving through. No one. Not even cops, unless Langdon came in his own vehicle. They could be on the lookout for that, checking every car of that description. But if he changed vehicles, and he probably had or he’d have been found by now... Well, he could sail into this county.

All his life he had thought of this as a safe place to live. Life brought the usual accidents and tragedies, but it was generally a safe place. Occasionally some creep would turn up, though.

A creep like Langdon, on a hunt. And when he thought over the cases he was aware of, he realized they’d been luckier than they probably had any right to be. None of these guys had succeeded in killing anyone.

Now they faced that possibility again.

Swearing, he turned and brewed a pot of coffee. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight, work tomorrow or not. He thought of that fragile, lovely woman sleeping upstairs, and his gut knotted so tightly that it hurt.

His male urges paled beside his need to protect her from any additional harm. He couldn’t make the fear go away, but he’d damn well die trying to protect her from that beast.

While the coffee finished brewing, he gave in to the need for action, pulled on his boots and jacket and stepped out into the frigid night. His breath blew clouds, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Wasted effort, he was sure, but that didn’t keep him from walking widening circles around the house, looking for footprints in the snow in places where he and Al hadn’t walked. Playing sentry against a killer who was probably nowhere near. But he couldn’t fight the need to make sure that this night, this darkness, was safe for now.

He even went into the barn, where the horses, surprised to see him at such an hour, opened lazy eyes to watch him. Would they alert at a stranger? He had no idea. They’d had little enough to fear in their lives.

Back outside, he looked up at a sliver of moon, then headed back toward the warm light falling from the kitchen window. In the morning he’d tell Al and Rosa to keep an eye out for strangers. They must have learned some of Nora’s story by now and wouldn’t ask questions. They’d simply take care.

He didn’t feel good about leaving Nora here while he was gone, even though he had great faith in Al, but he couldn’t see how it would be better in town. Every time he dropped her at the library to work, he knew that all that stood between her and trouble was Emmaline Dalton, the librarian. A brave woman, too, but a match for a crazy killer? He doubted it.

His only comfort was that if Emma called for help, half the sheriff’s department would descend within minutes.

He knew, too, that Nora had taken to walking to the diner for lunch. Did she feel safe walking those few short blocks? Maybe too safe? Or was this another act of defiance on her part, a reclamation of some normalcy for her life?

God knew she must need it. He certainly didn’t want to deprive her of any of the steps she was taking to reassert some control. While nobody was in control of everything, it was a basic need to feel you had
some
control. At least a little.

He shucked his boots and jacket, poured a coffee and headed back to his easy chair. He had a lot to think about.