Deep Dark (28 page)

The cold, steely look in his eyes sent a chill through her.

She turned and slid the mouse left, activating the three remaining screens. All showed webcam footage of interior spaces. Dread tightened her stomach. So many victims they'd never even known about.

“He's a psycho,” Jay said.

“This is how he watches them,” she said. “He probably spends hours in here fantasizing until he gets up the courage to make a move.”

“Holy shit, is that . . . ?”

She glanced over her shoulder at Jay, who was staring at the screen. “What?” she asked.

“That looks like . . .” His voice trailed off as he raked his hand through his hair. “I can't be sure, but I could swear that room . . .”

“Detective?” A uniformed cop stuck his head in. “You guys need to move the pickup. The CSI van's trying to get in. Garcia moved the other vehicle, but there's still not enough room, so—”

“You're supposed to be guarding the prisoner,” Reed said.

“He's in the car. Don't worry, he's cuffed.”

“You can't leave him alone, for Christ's sake! He's an expert lockpick.”

“I didn't. Garcia's with him.”

But Reed was already out the door as footsteps pounded down the hallway.

“Detective Novak? Shit, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened. He disappeared.”

CHAPTER 31

Veronica's head was pounding by the time she got home. She pulled into her garage with a sense of impending doom because she knew what was coming. It always started behind her eyes, and by the time it reached the back of her skull, she'd be weak with nausea. Her only hope of avoiding it was to get one of her migraine pills into her system before the queasiness kicked in.

She gathered her groceries off the front seat and got out of her car, casting a tired look at the lawn mower on the other side of her garage. She'd planned to do her yard this weekend. And her laundry. And pay bills, too, but the day had slipped away from her.

She dumped her bags on the kitchen counter and immediately filled a glass with ice. She poured ginger ale over it and went into the bathroom for her medicine. She forced the tablet down and then stared at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was a mass of frizz, her skin looked wan, and she still had bags under her eyes from being up so late with Jay.

The thought of him put a knot in her stomach. She'd turned him down over and over again because she didn't want to be gossiped about, and then she'd done the same thing to him. She thought of his face
this morning and turned away from her reflection, too ashamed even to look at herself.

She went back into the kitchen and put away the groceries. She plugged her phone into the charger and silenced the ringer, then kicked off her shoes and sank down on her sofa, slowly leaning her head back. It would take a while to kick in, if it even worked. The pills were no guarantee. She closed her eyes and waited.

Lawn and laundry and bills, all tomorrow. She had to water her plants and call her sister, too. And she probably wouldn't do any of it because she'd be curled up in bed with the blinds shut tight as she prayed for the pain to stop.

She opened her eyes and looked around her living room. The pale yellow glow of the lamp was starting to hurt her eyes. She glanced at her back door and forced herself to her feet. At least she could get the plants watered before she found herself down for the count.

She stepped outside and discovered exactly what she'd expected. Her petunias were wilted, and even the hearty bougainvillea looked shriveled. She gave everything a nice long drink and then rolled up the hose. She wiped her feet on the welcome mat.

“Damn it!”

She stepped inside and pulled up her foot. Her big toe was bleeding. She'd cut it on something sharp.

She stared at the cut. An icy trickle of fear slid down her spine. Slowly, she lowered her foot and looked around the patio. In the lamplight spilling through the window, she saw glistening shards of glass.

Her chest tightened. Her breathing grew shallow. She forced her face to relax, to show no expression, nothing at all.

Purse on the counter. Phone on the counter. Keys on the table.

She walked toward the kitchen on legs that suddenly felt like noodles. She passed the table and decided to skip the keys, the phone, everything. She just needed to get out. Out, out, out, before he realized that she knew.

Her pulse was racing. Her chest constricted. She trained her gaze on the front door and crossed the living-room carpet. She was almost there. Ten more steps. Nine. Eight.

A shadow leaped from the hall.

She screamed and lunged for the door. But he had her by the hair, yanking her back and throwing her to the floor, then landing heavily on top of her. She bucked and kicked under him, clawing at his face, his eyes, the thick black ski mask that covered his cheeks.

His knees were on her arms, pinning her down, digging into her biceps, and she flailed under him, but he was like a rock. He gazed down at her with hateful blue eyes, and she bucked and screamed as he calmly pulled a roll of duct tape from the pocket of his jacket. He ripped off a long strip of it, and her heart seized with terror. A loud keening noise tore from her throat as the tape slapped over her mouth.

No, no, no!

She kicked beneath him, enraged and helpless and petrified all at once. Her heels pounded against the floor, but his weight on her chest was heavy and suffocating, and she was losing breath as the masked face loomed over her. She heard the tear of fabric as he yanked her shirt. And then he said something, and spittle landed in her eyes, but she was too shocked to hear or understand anything except exactly what was
happening to her, exactly what he intended to do. And a vision of her own brutalized body and her own bludgeoned head flashed into her mind.

No, no, no!
She bucked and kicked. The edges of her vision blurred as she put every ounce of strength she possessed into heaving him off of her.

A great
boom
behind her, and suddenly she was surrounded by legs and boots. Two giant arms reached down and lifted him off and hurled him against the wall.

A blinding light shone in her eyes. She rolled to her side, choking and gasping as she pulled off the tape and flung it away. And then her face burned, and she felt like she'd ripped off her own lips.

“Veronica.”

She crawled toward the door, tried to get to her feet.

“Veronica.” Someone was at her side, pulling her up and away from the chaos. “Are you okay?”

Jay.

She blinked at him in shock. And then she saw Reed and a swarm of uniformed cops kneeling on her floor and slapping cuffs on her attacker, and he was flapping around on the floor like he'd been Tasered.

“What—how—” She tried to form a thought, but her mind wouldn't work. She shook off Jay's hands and backed away, bumping into the wall. Her living room was filled with men holding guns and Tasers and shouting orders at one another.

“Veronica, answer me.
Are you all right?
”

She looked at him, gradually comprehending his words as she tugged at the hem of her torn shirt.

Was she all right?

Was she
all right
?

“Hell, no,” she said, and burst into tears.

CHAPTER 32

Reed walked into the bullpen and spotted Jay coming out of the computer lab. It was swarming with FBI agents. Now that they'd actually apprehended the killer, everyone wanted a piece of the case.

Reed tossed his keys onto his desk and intercepted Jay on the way to the break room.

“You hear about the Chevy?” Reed asked.

The search of a sixty-eight Chevy pickup on Paul's property had turned up a cache of travel supplies, including money, two burner phones, and a phony passport. Investigators also had recovered a Sig P226 pistol, probably the one missing from the evidence room that had been used to shoot Gantz.

“Yeah, I heard. Sounds like he was planning to skip town.”

Jay looked at him, and Reed knew what he was thinking. He wished he'd just fled instead of making one last compulsive stop for his next target.

“How's Veronica?” Reed asked.

“Mild concussion.” Jay sighed heavily. “They discharged her from the ER half an hour ago, and she went home with her sister.”

“Good.”

“How's Laney?” Jay looked around. “I heard she's back here?”

“She told me she was going home.”

Jay's brow furrowed. “I just talked to Jordan. They were working together down in the evidence lab.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Reed went downstairs and found Jordan seated in front of a computer. She glanced up.

“You just missed her,” she said.

“Laney was here?”

“She wanted to make sure we had all the ViCAP info. We've been going through it the last hour.” She glanced at the clock. “She walked me through everything on the two murders up in Michigan and also a home invasion up there that we think might be related. Boyfriend scared off the intruder, but everything fits the profile. She tell you about it?”

“No. I didn't even know she was here. What time did she leave?”

“About ten minutes ago. And I have to say, she looked a little shaky.”

Reed muttered a curse.

“I offered to drive her home, but she wouldn't let me. She said she felt fine, just tired.” Jordan lifted an eyebrow. “And if you believe that, you're a moron.”

Reed turned to go.

“Hey.”

He looked back at her.

“She's a good investigator. Any chance we can hire her away from the Delphi Center?”

“I wouldn't bet on it.”

He headed back upstairs to close out. It was after midnight already, and he had a mountain of paper
work on his desk, but he needed to get to Laney's, so he grabbed his keys and left everything where it sat.

Hall called out to him as he passed his office. Reed stepped in and found the man seated behind his desk. The tie he'd worn for the afternoon press conference was askew and loose around his neck.

“Where's Delaney Knox?” Hall got to his feet.

“Home.”

“We need to bring her in for questioning tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“I'm not bringing her anywhere,” Reed said. “She's recovering.”

“I need to hear her statement.”

“She gave one already. You can read it.”

Hall's gaze narrowed. He came around the desk, and Reed felt his blood starting to boil. “I heard about your little affair, Novak. You should know the FBI's looking at her for hacking charges. They might be looking at you, too. We don't need this kind of publicity now.”

“Publicity?” Reed's hand clenched into a fist at his side.

Hall stepped closer, oblivious. “You led an unauthorized raid on a suspect's home. You botched the arrest. I should suspend you.”

“Bring it on. You better do it quick, though.”

He scowled. “What's that mean?”

Reed gritted his teeth. He glanced at the clock. Twelve-fucking-thirty. He didn't want to do this right now, he wanted to get to Laney's. “All this time I thought you were protecting the chief,” Reed said. “But you weren't protecting Aguilar at all, you were protecting yourself.”

“What—”

“I know about the IPO at Mix. Your brother-in-law's on the board there and stands to make a shitload of cash when the company goes public. You stymied this investigation every fucking step of the way to protect that company from any bad publicity.” Reed poked a finger into Hall's chest. “You refused to look at the facts, you refused to use outside resources, and because of your negligence, two women almost died today.”

Reed watched the fear come into Hall's eyes. Reed had been working on this angle of the case with a financial reporter from the
Austin Business Journal
, and he didn't have everything nailed down, but he could tell from Hall's reaction that he'd gotten it right. Reed didn't have the evidence yet, but he suspected Hall was getting a payoff for everything he'd done.

“You can't prove a damn thing,” Hall said.

“I don't have to. By Monday morning, you're going to have federal investigators crawling up your ass.” Reed clapped him on the shoulder. “Better not plan on taking any vacations.”

Reed walked out of the station and into the hot summer night. He spotted his pickup with its mangled front bumper parked in a fire lane with a ticket tucked under the wiper blade.

Reed tossed the ticket inside, got behind the wheel, and drove to Laney's. He rolled his windows down, hoping the fury he'd had locked inside him all day would somehow seep out of him before he reached her. He made a detour by a convenience store, rolled up to her place at exactly 1:05, and was relieved to see the purple flicker of a television in her front window.

Reed parked in the driveway and stared at her
house. He wanted her with a fierceness that shocked him. He hadn't wanted anything—truly yearned for anything—in years. He'd thought it was burnout creeping into his life and causing the apathy. But that was gone now, replaced by this intense desire. He wanted Laney to need him. It was ironic, because she was about the least needy woman he'd ever known.

He approached her door, combing his hand through his hair and feeling strangely nervous.

If you believe that, you're a moron.

Reed didn't believe it. Not for a second. Laney was anything but fine, and still Reed predicted she was going to try to push him away. He stood under the glare of her porch light and waited for her to answer the door. He could almost feel her on the other side of it debating with herself.

The door swung open.

“Hi,” she said.

“Thought you'd be asleep.”

“Really?”

He stepped inside and closed the door as she reset her beeping alarm. She turned around. She wore a strappy white tank top and plaid boxer shorts. The television cast a purplish hue on everything, making the cut on the side of her face look black. Just seeing it put a twist in his gut.

“I brought ice cream.” He held up the bag.

She took it without a word, and he followed her into the kitchen. She got out two spoons as Reed rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. She took the ice cream into the living room, and Reed grabbed a beer from the fridge and followed her.

She sat down beside her cat on the futon, and he
joined her. He felt anxious. He waited for her to tell him he shouldn't stay long, that she planned to go to sleep soon.

She ate a few bites of ice cream, then put the carton on the table with her spoon sticking up.

“Want any?” she asked.

“I'm good with beer.”

Actually, he didn't even want the beer. He rested it on the table and settled back beside her. There was so much he wanted to say to her. And ask her. But she was giving off a vibe like she needed space, so he was grateful just to be here.

Someone had tried to kill her tonight.

She'd had to fight for her life. Again. And Reed had almost been too late.

The fury was back again, making his shoulders tense and his chest tighten.

“I'm binge-watching
Game of Thrones
.” She scooted closer.

“It any good?” Reed pulled her against him and tucked her head against his chest.

“Sometimes.”

Reed stroked his fingers over her in that way that seemed to relax her. He felt the tension draining out of her. Or maybe out of him.

“I watch it when I can't sleep.”

He traced his fingers up her pretty arm, then down. Then up again. He pulled her closer, and his heart squeezed when she nestled her head against him.

“That happen a lot?” he asked quietly. “Not being able to sleep?”

She shrugged.

Reed closed his eyes and tried to just be in the moment with her without demanding anything. But he felt that anger again, that white-hot rage that had been coursing through his veins since he'd seen her bleeding and terrified at Doher's place.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

He pulled away and looked down at her. “You're sorry?”

“For not figuring it out sooner.”

Jesus Christ, he wanted to hit something. “I think that's my line. I'm the one who's sorry.” He pulled her against him, hugging her tightly as he kissed the top of her head. “Driving over there, I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life.” He squeezed her again, and she gave a little yelp.

“What?” He instantly let go.

“Nothing, just . . . my knee.”

He looked at her knee. It was swollen and mottled with bruises.

“What the hell happened?”

“I fell. When I was running to the fence.”

“We need to get you checked out.”

“I'm fine.”

“I'll take you to the ER.” He sat forward, and she grabbed his arm.

“Reed, I'm fine. I iced it. There's nothing else to do.”

He looked at her in the dimness, at the stubborn tilt of her chin. He could tell she'd made up her mind.

She rested her hand on his thigh. “I want to be home tonight. With you.” She slid her hand up his leg, and her eyes darkened. “No more questions. No talking. Just be with me.”

He watched her for a long moment. He had so much to say, so many things crowded in his mind. But she didn't want to hear any of them right now.

He picked up the remote and turned off the TV, plunging the room into darkness. He reached for her and gently pulled her against him. He found her mouth, and she was hot and sweet, and he knew she'd been waiting up for him, waiting for this. He slid his hands under her shirt to touch the smooth softness of her skin, and she arched against him. She felt so good and tasted so perfect, and he wanted to give her exactly what she wanted.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered.

She slid her arms around his neck. Reed scooped her up and carried her to bed.