Dangerous Kisses (15 page)

A shiver ran through Sydney as she considered the proximity she shared with the victims. Had she seen the killer dining at the Grille? Had he ever come into the paper? The area in question was relatively small, but hundreds of people lived within it. Checking all of their backgrounds could take days — ones in which the killer could strike again.

But not if she could help it. Maybe she could help flush out the killer.

"I’m going back to work."

"Sydney—"

She waved off his protest. "Listen, I’m going crazy sitting in this apartment. Besides, you’ll have your guy watching out for me no matter where I am. And there’s a lot more people around at the office. Safety in numbers, isn’t that what they say?"

She expected him to argue, but he remained quiet for several seconds. "Be careful."

Was that the cop or the man talking?

"I always am."

He sat his cup on the table and turned his gaze out the patio door again. His visit hadn’t been just to check up on her. Something was on his mind. She could tell by the way the muscles in his jaws tensed.

"What’s wrong?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned back toward her. "I wanted to explain about...about the time out on the boat."

The look of sorrow tinged with shame coloring his eyes told her she wouldn’t like what he had to say. No matter how much she told herself she’d survive just fine without him, she suddenly wasn’t all that sure. Was this what her mother had felt for her father, this feeling of wanting to latch on and never let go?

But Sydney didn’t show him her inner turmoil. "There’s no need to explain."

He stepped forward but thankfully didn’t touch her. If he had, she might have dissolved in his arms.

"I don’t want you to think that I make a practice of making love to women then just dumping them on their doorsteps."

"I didn’t think that."

"Good."

"I mean, adults have sex. It’s no big deal."

He surprised her by lifting his hand to her temple and brushing back loose tendrils of hair. He’d done it before, but it seemed out of place considering he was trying to make a break with her.

"Don’t make it sound so clinical." He paused, as if considering his next words. "It was more than that."

His fingers drifted down to her cheek, and she forgot to breathe. "I’m confused."

A pained expression crossed his face. "I didn’t mean for this to happen."

"What?"

"Caring about you."

Her heart leapt, danced in a wild circle. She might live to regret it, but she forged ahead. "If you care, why are you trying so hard not to?"

"Because you deserve better than me."

"Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?"

"I can’t. I wouldn’t make a very good boyfriend."

"Why not?"

He dropped his hand and stalked across the room, that wild cat trapped in a cramped cage again. "Because I’m a cop. I work all the damn time."

"So do I."

Jake hung his head and raked his fingers through his hair before turning back toward her. "I don’t want you to care about me only to have me end up dead."

Of all the possibilities for him distancing himself from her, this one had never entered her mind. "Jake, any of us could die at any time. I could get killed in a car wreck on the way to the grocery store."

"And I could take a bullet like my father did."

The anguish in his words was so raw she almost could see the little boy he’d been.

"I saw how my father’s death tore my mother apart. It took years for her to come out of her depression. She was a good, loving mother all that time, but she was lost without my father. I swore I’d never put anyone through that."

She moved toward him, lifted her hand to his strong jaw. "I’d bet my life that even though it hurt to lose him, your mother wouldn’t have given up the time she had with your father to avoid those years of pain and loneliness. I’ve come to realize only recently that we can’t hide from our feelings because we’re afraid of being hurt. I’ve done that ever since my mother died."

He closed his eyes as he placed his own hand over hers at his cheek, seeming to give up his struggle. In one swift moment, she was in his arms and his lips had descended to hers. His mouth plundered hers in a desperate search for...something — fulfillment, peace, love — she didn’t know what Jake sought, but she found herself willing to give it.

She loved him, and somehow she was going to make him believe that they deserved a chance despite the risks.

He pulled away with a growl of frustration. "I can’t do this." He set her from him then retreated toward the door.

"Jake." The single word was a plea.

He paused, his back to her. "I’m sorry, Sydney." Without looking at her, he stepped out of her apartment — out of her life.

Tears streamed down her face as she stared at the door, willing Jake to come back. But he didn’t.

She closed her eyes and let the sobs come.

Jake cursed as he sloshed hot coffee onto his hand. He dropped the cup, spilling coffee across the countertop and beginning his Monday morning on a less than stellar note. Figures that he’d come into the Murder Squad room to find a rare fresh pot of coffee only to spill it on himself. No one stepped forward to help him clean up the mess, and he didn’t blame them. He’d been biting the guys’ heads off all morning, the frustration — both professional and personal — boiling over until he snapped and growled like an injured animal.

In a way, he was exactly that. Not only were his abilities as a detective in question, but he couldn’t help thinking about how he’d left Sydney, ignoring the plea in her voice.

"Let’s put our heads together here," Kevin said from his seat at the center table.

Jake turned and saw understanding on his friend’s face despite an edge of annoyance. He finished cleaning up the spilled coffee, then carefully poured himself another. The caffeine was the only thing standing between him and collapse.

He sank into a chair opposite Kevin as the rest of the squad took up other spots around the table. During the next few minutes, they went over the particulars of the case for what seemed like the hundredth time, hoping they could find some clue they’d overlooked during the first ninety-nine examinations.

Kevin leaned back in his chair. "So basically all we have on our victims is a common physical appearance, somewhat similar ages, they all lived alone and they worked in the same ZIP code."

It took a moment for the last observation to sink into Jake’s fogged brain. "The post office."

"We checked with the post offices that deliver to that area as well as the ones that deliver to the victims’ home addresses," Kevin said. "No one at the post offices or the carriers remember anything unusual. They handle thousands of packages a day."

They’d of course checked all the victims’ mailboxes, but had come up empty. Sydney’s package had been free of fingerprints, but postal workers often wore latex gloves now. And it made sense that the killer would guard against leaving prints. Something didn’t sit right with Jake. Why couldn’t he figure it out?

The detectives continued to toss out facts, theories, possibilities. Jake concentrated on his own thoughts, digging deeper for whatever was tugging at the back of his brain.

Had Sydney’s packages even seen the inside of a postal facility? They’d found a similar package in Jess Greene’s apartment, but just because they had postage affixed and were postmarked didn’t mean they’d gone through the normal channels.

"Have we checked out the carriers?" he asked.

"Yes," Kevin replied. "I said that already."

"No, not just interview them. Check their backgrounds. Think about it. Who could postmark and deliver a package without generating suspicion?"

The guys scrambled to their desks to start background checks. Jake’s heart thumped hard against his chest.

Please let this be it. Please let us find him before he kills someone else.

****

Sydney’s head throbbed, making it hard to concentrate on the papers strewn across her desk. Even though she had deadlines on other stories, she’d been unable to focus on anything but the serial killer story. For the past hour, she’d examined every bit of evidence in the latest murder.

Jess Greene, twenty-one, the only daughter in a family of five children, the baby of the family. A lump the size of a lemon lodged in Sydney’s throat. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to call the family. Her own feelings were too raw, she felt too guilty that this beautiful young woman had paid the ultimate price because of her.

Becky grabbed Sydney’s arm, forcing her to follow as Becky headed toward the restroom. Once inside the fluorescent-lit room, Becky checked all the stalls but didn’t enter any. When Becky turned back toward her, Sydney knew she’d just been ambushed.

"Okay, out with it," Becky said.

"What?"

"Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You take time off, which you never do, and you come back looking like you’ve not slept a wink since you left."

"Do I really look that bad?"

"Look for yourself." Becky gestured toward the large mirror on the wall."

She’d seen herself in her own bathroom mirror earlier that morning, but the bright commercial lights illuminated more clearly just how rough she looked. Bloodshot eyes with dark half moons below them, pale skin, the tight edges of her mouth.

"Does this have anything to do with Jake, the killer, or both?"

Suddenly so weary it was difficult to stand, Sydney slid to the floor and covered her face with her cold hands.

"I love him," she said, angry at the pitiful tone in her voice.

"Does he know that?"

"Yes."

"And he doesn’t feel the same way?"

"I don’t know. I thought so, but now I don’t know."

Becky sat down beside her and took Sydney’s hand in her much warmer one. "What happened?"

Sydney told her everything that had happened from the time she and Jake had stepped on board the boat until his exit from her apartment the night before.

"He loves you," Becky said with the conviction of a mind reader.

"Why do you say that?"

"If a guy doesn’t care, he doesn’t come back to make sure you’re okay. He takes the opportunity and runs."

"I know he cares, but how do you know it’s love?"

"Okay, so I don’t know without a doubt, but my instinct tells me he does. He just can’t say it. Hon, he told you himself that he doesn’t want you to get hurt if something happens to him. From most guys, I’d say that’s a line, but Jake Radley doesn’t seem like the kind to rely on cheap lines."

Sydney wanted to believe Becky was right, but even if Jake did love her, how could she convince him to take a chance?

Becky pulled her to her feet, then set about cleaning up her face with a wet paper towel. "Come on, let’s fix you up a bit. No need for the entire newsroom to read the diary of your private life written across your face."

Sydney chuckled, but a tear slipped out of her eye. Becky wiped the tear away.

"No more tears. You’ve cried enough. No matter what happens, you’ve cried enough."

Sydney reined in her scattered emotions and blinked away the rest of the tears pooled in her burning, itching eyes. Her friend was right. She’d cried enough. If things worked out with Jake, she wouldn’t need those tears. And if they didn’t...well, she had to get on with the business of her life and not dwell on the past or the what-might-have-beens.

As Becky dug makeup out of her purse and did her best to disguise Sydney’s sadness, she asked about the latest victim. "I assume that’s what you’ve been poring over all morning. Are they any closer to catching this guy?"

"No."

Becky stopped applying the blush and stared into Sydney’s eyes. "I’m sure Jake told you this, but it’s not your fault. You have enough on your plate without blaming yourself."

"I know. At least my brain knows, but my heart’s a different story. She was so young, had her whole life ahead of her."

"And Jake and the boys will find the man who killed her and make him pay."

Becky finished playing cosmetologist and stepped back to examine her work. "Not bad if I do say so myself. I may have missed my calling."

"I don’t think so. Our view of Capitol Hill wouldn’t be the same without you."

"You’re right. I wouldn’t trade my exciting life of budget hearings and campaign fights for anything." She rolled her eyes.

Sydney hugged Becky, careful not to smear her new makeup. "Thank you."

"Wow, a hug for a little blush and eye shadow."

"No, for being my friend, even when it’s not easy."

Becky stepped back and flicked the end of Sydney’s nose. "Hon, you don’t realize how good of a friend you are, too. I wouldn’t take the world for you."

Sydney walked out of the restroom, a bit more confident that somehow things would work out for the best. When she reached her desk, J.D. was placing her mail atop her inbox. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought that her mail might hold a chilling surprise. She shook her head at her paranoia. The killer wasn’t going to do this to her, make her fear something as ordinary as mail.

Refocusing on work, she picked up the files to give them another look but was interrupted by her phone. She glanced at the display. It was a call from the reception desk.

"Hey, Francie."

"Hey, Sydney. I’ve got a delivery for you."

Sydney’s heart jumped into her throat. "What is it?"

"Only the biggest, most beautiful bouquet I’ve ever seen. You’re making some man mighty happy for him to be spending this kind of dough."

Flowers? Had Jake changed his mind about their relationship? She couldn’t help the wide, goofy smile that spread across her face.

"What are you grinning at?"

Sydney moved close to Becky and whispered, "I think Jake sent me flowers."

"Hot damn, I told you so."

"Geez, can you yell it a little louder? I don’t think they heard you in Brentwood."

Becky just laughed. "Go on, get them. I want to see what kind of taste Radley has."

Sydney imagined what the bouquet looked like as she rode the elevator down to the first floor. She would never hear the end of it from Becky, but she didn’t care. If it meant Jake cared about her, she’d take snickers and teasing from the entire newsroom.She passed the pressroom and its normal deafening drone. The paper wasn’t on press yet, but the presses were always busy printing other projects. Even with ear protection, she wondered how the pressmen didn’t go totally deaf.

She gasped when a hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes opened wide, and she struggled against the arms dragging her backward. The man had...a cloth over...her mouth. Her eyelids began to droop. Oh God, she was going to die.

****

While the other members of the Murder Squad tracked down the other mail carriers, Jake and Kevin went in search of Bart Watkins, the carrier who delivered to the paper and the victims’ places of work.

"Is Bart Watkins still out on his route? Can we reach him?" Jake asked the postmaster.

"He called in sick this morning."

Jake went cold. He might be jumping to conclusions about Watkins, but he was calling Sydney before he got to the door. He found her away from her desk, so he asked for Becky Griffith.

"Becky, this is Detective Jake Radley. I need you to find Sydney for me."

"Curious about how she likes the flowers? She just went down to get them."

"I didn’t send any flowers."

Fear welled up like floodwater, grasping at him and trying to drag him under.

He turned toward Kevin. "He’s at Sydney’s office."

Would he ever see her alive again? He balled his fists, the need to kill frightening him. He had to reach the paper before Watkins got out of the building with her.

Kevin’s cell phone rang. "O’Malley." After listening for about thirty seconds, he hung up. "Come on"

"Where?"

"That was dispatch. An older couple out at your marina saw a man they’d never seen before getting on your boat, and he had a blond woman with him."

"Call the office and tell them to get everything they can on Bart Watkins," Jake said as he rushed toward the car. "Send all available units to the marina. No sirens." He slid behind the steering wheel before Kevin could stop him.

"Let me drive, man."

"Like hell."

And that’s how he drove, like a bat out of hell, honking the horn and running red lights. He had to get to her before that filthy bastard touched her, squeezed the life from her pretty throat.

Lord, let me get there in time, he prayed, hoping God would remember the sound of his pleas and have mercy. Let me save her, and I’ll tell her I love her.

He nearly slammed the accelerator through the floor in case God didn’t hear him.

****

Sydney watched the waves lap against the boat as Bart anchored off the island where she and Jake had such a short time ago. Only Bart chose the opposite end of the island, out of sight of the marina and the traffic crossing the dam.

She thought about jumping into the water, but with the air temperature in the low fifties, she’d succumb to hypothermia before she made it to shore. Even if it’d been the middle of summer, she wasn’t positive she’d be able to swim that far – especially not with the queasy after-effect of being drugged still lingering.

She scanned the faraway shore, the empty surface of the lake. If she screamed, would anyone even hear her? And if someone did hear, would it be too late by the time they reached her?

Instead, she was forced to pray for some miracle, that somehow Jake would figure out where Bart had taken her. Considering Jake didn’t know who had taken her, escape was probably totally up to her.

"I thought this spot was appropriate," Bart said. "You seemed to like it before."

Her skin crawled. He’d been out there watching them. Thank goodness he hadn’t been able to see into the cabin. The thought of him watching what she’d shared with Jake sickened her.

His voice, his eyes, his expression – none of them matched the friendly, teasing postal carrier she’d spoken to a few times while he delivered mail to the paper’s mailroom. Now he sounded condescending and superior.

His eyes bore into hers, devoid of anything remotely warm. The eyes of a man who could kill without compunction.

"Why are you doing this?"

He moved next to her. "Because you all never learn," he whispered in her ear.

"Learn what?" She could barely get the words past the bile rising in her throat.

"Don’t pretend you don’t know, Sydney. You’re like all the others. You use your beauty to get what you want. You don’t even look at people like me." His voice, while still low, hardened. "I refuse to be ignored."

Sydney’s heart thundered in her ears, and her mind scrambled for some means of escape.

She fought the panic rising in her. She had to keep a clear head so she’d see the opportunity for escape when it presented itself. There had to be one. She wasn’t ready to die, not at the hands of a coward like her mother had.

She watched Bart as he circled her. His twisted reasoning for killing women must have something to do with being rejected by a woman. He wasn’t ugly, but his average looks didn’t make him attractive either. He’d always seemed so nice. But he fit the profile. Had she overlooked something that should have warned her?