Dead By Midnight (30 page)

“We have no evidence that there is any connection,” Griff replied, then looked at Derek. “What’s your educated guess on that one?”

“I’ll tell you what I told Maleah when she and I discussed the possibility—it’s improbable that the Midnight Killer murders and the murders of the two Powell employees are connected. The MOs are completely different. And just as important, the Midnight Killer would have no reason to kill Kristi Arians, who was in no way connected to that investigation.”

“Does that mean someone is targeting Powell employees for a reason totally unrelated to any ongoing investigations?” Michelle asked.

“Possibly,” Griff said. “We’ve already beefed up security here at the Powell Building and at Griffin’s Rest. And every agent will be contacted and warned to be extra vigilant concerning their own safety. Shelley Gilbert’s death tells us that whoever killed her was a highly trained individual. No amateur could have overpowered her.”

“Then you think we’re dealing with an assassin?” Ben asked.

“I think it’s possible,” Griff agreed.

Silence fell over the room, each person no doubt considering his or her own fate as a Powell employee. Maleah sensed that there was a lot more to Griff’s suspicions than he was revealing. Only her friendship with Nic gave her an insight into Griffin Powell’s personal life, one that the other employees did not have. If someone was targeting Powell employees, there had to be a reason, and her gut instincts told her that that reason was Griffin Powell himself.

“Any idea why somebody would target your employees?” Holt asked.

“Nothing concrete,” Griff said.

“We’re moving forward with the Midnight Killer investigation.” Nic stepped in with a comment that purposely changed the discussion. “We want each of you to study the updated information and make any additions you feel are necessary. We’ll meet back here in the morning at ten. Thank y’all for coming tonight.”

Nic had effectively ended the meeting and dismissed the agents. Taking their cue from Nic’s abruptness, Holt, Ben, and Michelle made a hasty retreat and headed for the elevator. As Derek and Maleah followed, Griff called to them.

“You two, wait up.”

They stopped, turned, and faced Griff.

“Derek, we need your area of expertise,” Griff said, then looked at Maleah. “Nic has requested that, as her close friend, you be included in this very private conversation. Anything said from this point on is to be kept in the strictest confidence and mentioned to no one outside this room. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

Maleah understood that Griff didn’t want her here and had probably objected when Nic had asked that she be included. But he was hardly in a position to deny his wife the loyalty and support of one friend when he had included Sanders and Yvette Meng. And although Barbara Jean and Nic were dear friends, Barbara Jean’s first allegiance was to Sanders, and Sanders’s allegiance was always to Griff.

She shouldn’t be thinking in terms of having to choose sides or considering the possibility that Nic and Griff might be at odds over whatever top-secret information Griff was going to reveal. But when she glanced at Nic and sensed some odd vibes coming from her friend, she realized her instincts were probably right on the money. Yvette Meng’s presence here tonight, along with her unnervingly spooky fellow psychic, Meredith Sinclair, bothered Nic a lot more than she wanted her husband to know.

As soon as Derek and Maleah sat back down at the conference table, Sanders closed the double doors and Yvette and Meredith took seats at the far end of the table. Sanders removed one of the chairs and Barbara Jean eased her wheelchair up to the table. Sanders took the seat next to her.

Standing in front of the small assembly composed of their most trusted confidants, Griff remained quiet and still for a couple of minutes, as if considering what to say and how much information to share.

“Yvette and Meredith, as all of you know, possess certain talents that can often be used to help Powell’s. Not in all cases, of course. Only in a specific few. They were allowed to see Kristi and Shelley, after their autopsies. Yvette was unable to ascertain any information that might help us. But Meredith did pick up on something.”

Maleah was somewhat of a skeptic. A partial skeptic. She didn’t actually believe in the supernatural, but she didn’t completely disbelieve either. Was it possible that some people possessed a greater degree of psychic instinct than most? Yeah, sure. But that was as far as she was willing to suspend disbelief.

Griff looked at Meredith. The shy, withdrawn young woman with the wild, curly red hair and an abundance of freckles kept her head bowed and didn’t make eye contact with Griff or anyone else.

“Can you tell us what you sensed when you were with Kristi and then with Shelley?” Griff asked.

Meredith swallowed. “They did not know their killer and he did not know them.”

A cold trickle crept up Maleah’s spine. This was just a little too weird to suit her. Were they supposed to believe that Meredith Sinclair was able to speak to the dead?

“And?” Yvette Meng prompted her protégé to continue.

“He felt nothing when he killed them. No regret. No passion,” Meredith said. “To him, it was simply a job well done.”

“Thank you,” Griff said and then focused on Derek. “I want you to work with Meredith to form a profile of our killer. There’s a good possibility that he is a hired assassin, which will make discovering his identity difficult. But if I have a profile of this man, it will assist me when I begin searching for him.”

Maleah had remained quiet as long as she possibly could. “Why would someone hire an assassin to kill Powell Agency employees?”

Griff’s hard glare bored into Maleah and for a split second she regretted being so bold.

“That is
the
question, isn’t it,” Griff said. “And I intend to find the answer before anyone else associated with Powell’s is murdered.”

An uneasy silence permeated the room. The soft, rapid drum of her heartbeat hummed in Maleah’s ears.

Lorie had just stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her wet hair when an explosive streak of lightning lit up the sky, so bright that it was visible through the white lace Roman shade covering the bathroom window. When they had been half an hour outside Dunmore on their trip home from Knoxville tonight, distant thunder and lightning had forewarned of an approaching springtime storm. After dropping Cathy and Jack by their house, she and Mike had hurried home, hoping to outrun the impending rain. They had almost made it, but as they emerged from her SUV, the bottom fell out, drenching them both to the skin. Once inside, she had gone straight to the bathroom while Mike locked up and secured the alarm system.

Suddenly a riotous boom of thunder followed another blaze of lightning. Lorie shuddered. The lights flickered several times as she reached for a second towel. And then the electricity went out and everything turned pitch black. Lorie gasped and jerked her hand away from the decorative metal towel rack.

She kept a flashlight and a box of matches in her nightstand and there were scented candles on top of her dresser. Taking it slow and easy, she felt her way to the door, cautiously moved into her bedroom, and managed to make it to her bed without running into anything. Another vivid slash of lightning illuminated the room for a couple of seconds, long enough for her to grab the handle and open the nightstand drawer. She rummaged through the drawer’s contents until her fingers encountered the flashlight.

“Lorie,” Mike called from the hallway outside her closed bedroom door. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she told him.

“A transformer probably blew,” he said. “I’ve already put in a call to the emergency line at the utility company.”

Without warning, Lorie’s bedroom door opened and there stood Mike, fresh from his shower, wearing only his pajama bottoms and holding a flashlight, which he pointed directly at her. Both of them stood unmoving, each of them transfixed by the knowledge that Lorie was stark naked. Mike ran the flashlight over her from her wide eyes and gaping mouth to her bare feet. As if finally realizing what he was doing, he cast the flashlight’s glow away from Lorie and waved it around the room as if searching for something.

“I—I had just gotten out of the shower when the power went out,” she told him.

“Where’s your robe?” he asked, his voice rough and husky.

“Uh, in the bathroom, on the door hook. I wasn’t thinking about anything except getting my flashlight.”

“Find your robe and put it on, for God’s sake.”

Loud, repetitive knocking at the front door gained their attention before the sound of a man’s voice identified the person as Tommy Dryer, the deputy on guard duty tonight.

“Stay in your room.” Mike barked out the order. “And put on your robe or your gown or something.”

Trembling inside and out, Lorie sucked in a deep breath. She could still feel Mike’s gaze as it raked over her, the intensity of his stare so powerful that it was as if he had actually been touching her. She had wanted him to look at her, to find her desirable, but she knew that tempting him could be dangerous for both of them.

As she used the flashlight to find her way back into the bathroom, she heard the sound of voices coming from down the hall. Apparently Mike and Tommy were discussing the sudden blackout. Springtime storms such as this were common in Dunmore and occasionally losing power for an hour or two was the norm.

When she located her silk robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, she set the flashlight on the vanity so that the beam shot straight up at the ceiling. She slipped into the ankle-length yellow robe and tied the belt into a loose bow at her waist. Just as she reached up to remove the towel from her hair, a soft rap on the partially closed bedroom door gained her attention.

“Are you decent?” Mike called to her.

Leaving the towel draped around her head, she picked up the flashlight and walked out of the bathroom. “I’m wearing a robe now, so yes, I suppose I’m decent.”

When she shined the light toward the door, it hit Mike mid-chest. He had a gorgeous chest. Broad, muscled, covered with a heavy dusting of curly black hair. Quickly, she lifted the light to his face.

He blinked and held up his hand to shield his eyes. “Damn it, Lorie, are you trying to blind me?”

She jerked the beam away from his face. “Sorry. I guess I should light some candles.”

“It’s late,” he said without moving from the doorway. “I don’t think you need to light candles when all we’ll be doing is sleeping.”

“It’ll be a while before I can sleep. It’s nearly midnight, you know, and the power is out and it’s storming and…” Leaving her sentence unfinished, she went over to the nightstand, removed a box of matches from the drawer, and then lit the three fat round candles sitting atop her dresser in decorative crystal holders. “There, that’s better.”

A delicate muted glow illuminated her bedroom, the soft golden shimmer casting wavering gray shadows over the floor and ceiling.

“I’m going to grab a quilt and a pillow off my bed,” Mike said. “With the power out, you’re jittery, and I think we’d both sleep better if I’m close by. I’ll bunk down outside your door in the hall.”

“There’s no need to do that,” she told him. “You won’t get any sleep on the hard floor.”

“I won’t get any sleep worrying about you if I’m down the hall.”

“Then sleep on the chaise longue over there.” She pointed with a flick of her fingers. “There’s already a pillow and afghan on the chaise that you can use.”

Talk about tempting fate! It had been difficult enough for them to keep their hands off each other with him sleeping down the hall. But on the other hand, the thought of Mike nearby was extremely comforting, all things considered.

“The alarm system’s backup batteries are good for about eight hours, I think,” Mike told her as he came into the room. “I figure the power will be back on long before that. The guys at the utility company are used to these frequent spring storms. And even if the phone line goes out, we both have our cell phones and Tommy’s got the radio, of course.”

“Then we’re as safe as we can be,” she said.

Lorie knew that if she stayed right where she was, Mike would have to walk past her to get to the chaise. So, she waited for him to come to her. As he approached, he slowed his gait and finally stopped right beside her.

While they stared at each other, sheets of heavy rain pouring down and the wind whipping through the trees outside, the mantel clock in the living room struck the midnight hour. Lorie gasped.

“It’s okay, honey,” Mike said. “Remember, you’re safe.”

“I know.” She wrapped her arms across her chest in a hugging gesture. “But for how long? We both know that he’s going to come for me.”

“And when he does, he’ll have to come through me to get to you.”

“Oh, Mike, that’s what frightens me. I can’t bear the thought of you risking your life to protect me.” Of its own accord, her hand lifted, reached out and rested, palm down, in the center of his chest.

Mike stiffened. His chest rose and fell heavily with each breath he took. Their gazes locked, neither of them able to look away.

Why had she done something so monumentally stupid? She knew better than to touch him. Correcting her error in judgment, she jerked her hand away, but Mike grabbed her wrist midair and brought her hand back to his chest.

“I want you to touch me,” he told her, his voice a rasping whisper.

She shivered, sexual longing spreading quickly through her body. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He maneuvered his hand holding hers to his chest and rubbed her open palm from one tight nipple to the other. He groaned as her fingers slid across his body. He guided her hand over his belly and down the arrow of dark hair that disappeared into his pajama bottoms.

She had dreamed of this moment for such a long time that it didn’t seem quite real. And it wasn’t real, not in the way she longed for it to be. Mike wanted her, but only for now, not forever. He wanted sex, not love and marriage. But she wanted him any way she could get him, even if tonight was all he could give her.

When he released her hand where it was poised above his navel, she slid her open palm down the fly of his pajama bottoms until her hand covered the bulge of his erection. With gentle seduction, she cupped his penis through the cotton material and tightened her fingers around him.

Moaning deep in his throat, Mike closed his eyes, and she knew how much he was enjoying her intimate caress. Ever so slowly, she lifted her hand to the waistband of his pajama bottoms, inserted her hand inside against his bare skin, and circled his sex with her fingers.

“Damn, honey. Damn,” Mike growled.

She pumped him very slowly, using her thumb to stroke the bulbous head of his penis. He was big and hard and ready.

“I’ll give you until daylight to stop doing that,” he told her, and she smiled as she remembered how that phrase had been a joke between them in their teens when they had first become lovers.

“You’re not twenty anymore,” she reminded him in the same jovial manner. “Are you sure you can keep it up until daylight now that you’re no longer in your prime?”

“I think I can manage…given the right incentive.” He chuckled.

She smiled. “I’ll see what I can do to keep you aroused.”

“Honey, all you have to do is breathe to keep me aroused.”

While she caressed him, he gently grasped the back of her neck with his right hand, tilted her head upward, and brought his mouth down on hers. She opened herself to him, sharing the kiss, giving and taking in equal measure. His left hand glided down her back, over the silky robe, and cradled her butt.

He bunched a handful of silky material in his hand at the base of her spine. “Take this damn thing off.”

“Put your robe on. Take your robe off,” she teased as she moved her caressing hand up and out of his pajama bottoms. “Make up your mind, will you.”

He tore at the loosely tied belt around her waist and when it fell away, he yanked the robe apart and stared at her. She could barely breathe. He covered her breasts with his open palms and gently squeezed. Her heart stopped for a half a second. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he stroked each nipple with his thumbs.

Lorie’s knees buckled.

He lowered his head and took one nipple into his mouth while his fingers toyed with the other. Her body tightened and released as a tingling sensation spread from between her legs and zipped along every nerve ending. Moaning with pleasure, she leaned into him while he slid one hand between her thighs and delved two fingers inside her.

“Next time I’ll make it slow and sweet,” he vowed.

“Next time,” she echoed his sentiments.

He shoved the robe off her shoulders and onto the floor, and then marched her backward until they reached the bed. While she watched him, her gaze moving over him with great pleasure, he shucked off his pajama bottoms and tossed them aside. Lorie sucked in her breath. All she could say was that Mike’s body had improved with age. Hard and pulsating, eager for action, his sex jutted out from a nest of thick black curls. Without a word exchanged, he pushed her onto the bed, spread her dangling legs, and stepped between them. She scooted back a few inches until her hips rested near the edge of the mattress. And then she reached up as she lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. He came down over her and grasped her hips. Hoisting her higher to bring their bodies into a perfect alignment, he thrust into her and pushed himself to the hilt.

Oh God, how she loved the feel of him inside her. This was Mike, she reminded herself. Her Mike. Her first love. Her only love. It had never been the same with anyone else.

He took her with a frenzy that brought them both quickly to the pinnacle. First she and then he climaxed, their orgasms so close together the aftershocks rippled through them simultaneously. Mike fell on top of her, his big body pressing her to the bed, pinning her beneath him. She loved his heavy weight covering her, his broad shoulders blotting out the world.

And then it ended as quickly as it had begun. Mike lifted himself up and off her. Standing over her, he held out his hand. When she put her hand in his, he pulled her to her feet so that they stood facing each other. He smiled. She smiled. And then he led her into her bathroom and turned on the shower.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and her hair towel dried, Lorie lay in Mike’s arms in the center of her bed and listened to the soft, sweet hum of his breathing as he slept. It had been a long, long time since she had been this happy. It wouldn’t last, of course, but while it did, she intended to savor every moment.