Disarming Detective (8 page)

Ella hurried over to him. “Did you come straight back here after you dropped me off last night?”

Logan looked up with surprise, apparently so tired he hadn’t even heard her approach. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I got a call that they found the guy Laurie left the bar with.”

Ella grabbed his arm, her eyes widening. “And?”

Logan shifted his coffee mug to his other hand. “We still haven’t found Laurie. I spent a lot of the night questioning Jeff, the kid who was with her. Local, twenty-one, lived here all his life. He’s got a reputation with the women, but nothing violent, no record. He says she went back to his apartment with him, but that she left around three a.m. and he figured she was home by now. He claims he didn’t take her number, that she didn’t ask for his.”

“You could have called me last night. I would have come back.”

“No need.” Logan rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes, took a long swallow of coffee. “Jeff shares an apartment with a friend, who came home around two, when the bars closed. His friend alibis him, says the girl left and that Jeff was home until we came to question him.”

Ella frowned. Her gut told her Laurie’s disappearance was connected to Theresa’s and that the killer wouldn’t have picked her up at a bar. But whenever someone went missing after going someplace alone with a stranger, you had to consider that stranger suspect number one. “You believe the alibi?”

“Yeah. And, honestly, I’ve met this kid on occasion. He’s a surfer and he’s got a reputation there, too.”

“So?”

“His reputation is that he surfs because he thinks it’s a good way to pick up women, but he’s a wimp. Apparently he’s afraid of just about everything in the ocean. He runs to shore a lot, afraid he’s seen a shark fin, only to have his friends make fun of his fear of dolphins. I don’t see him going to the marshes when the alligators are feeding.”

“Oh.” Ella sighed. “So, we’ve still got nothing?”

“Pretty much. At this point, most of the station believes Laurie is sleeping it off somewhere and that she’ll show up soon.”

“But not you, right?”

“No. Laurie’s picture looked too much like Theresa for me to accept that this is a coincidence.”

“About that—” Ella looked around, then realized she still had her hand on Logan’s arm. Flushing, she quickly dropped it to her side. “Can we grab the conference room? I want to talk to you about something.”

Logan grinned and even with his bloodshot eyes and rumpled, day-old clothes, it shot Ella’s heart rate up. “I hope it’s about going to dinner at my parents’ house again.”

His parents’ house. Where she’d thrown herself at him. She felt her cheeks color and turned away from him before he could notice, heading for the conference room where they’d worked yesterday. “It’s about why I’m really here.”

* * *

“
I
WAS
WONDERING
when you were going to spill your big secret.” Logan perched on the edge of the conference table as Ella closed the door behind them.

When she turned to face him, she looked nervous, making him wonder just how bad her news was. “If you’re telling me, you must be pretty sure Theresa’s murder is connected to the old case you had, right?”

Ella ran a hand through her long hair, pushing it out of her face. “It’s not...” She closed her eyes briefly. “It’s not exactly an old case, Logan.”

He sat a little straighter, praying she wasn’t about to tell him she’d personally known the murder victim she thought was connected to his case.

She let out a heavy sigh, and then, to his surprise, she walked over and lifted herself up onto the table beside him. “When I was in my senior year of college, one of my best friends was abducted.”

Sympathy and dread mingled, and a wave of sorrow rushed over him at the thought of Ella having to endure that. “Oh, man, Ella, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t even realize he’d threaded his fingers through hers until she looked down at their entwined hands and then back up at him. The expression in her eyes—a mixture of sadness, determination, and something that looked an awful lot like affection—made him want to wrap his arm around her shoulder and haul her close. Instead, he tightened his hold on her hand, trying to tell her without words that there was nothing she couldn’t share with him.

Her lips trembled, as though she was trying to smile at him but couldn’t manage it, and then she continued, “We shared a dorm room. Honestly, I was worried when she didn’t come home that night, but I thought she...” Ella’s shoulders jerked and she shook her head. “I knew she and her boyfriend had been talking about taking things to the next level. I thought she was with him and she’d forgotten to tell me.”

And she’d probably carried around the guilt of not going to the police sooner ever since. “It’s not your fault, Ella.”

Her dark brown eyes were more serious than he’d ever seen them as she replied, “Yeah, I know that. But it doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget how wrong I was.”

And when she finished college, she’d picked a job that required her to be right about that kind of predator pretty much one hundred percent of the time. So, apparently, she’d never really forgiven herself, either.

From the few days he’d known her, Ella had shown a quick wit, an easy smile, so much personable confidence. He’d never for a second have guessed she had tragedy in her past.

“Then, the next morning, when she stumbled back to the room—”

“Whoa. She’s alive?” Logan interrupted.

Ella’s face twisted. “Yes. It was Maggie. My friend you met at the airport.”

The woman with the pretty, but haunted, blue eyes. “What happened to her?”

The emotion left Ella’s voice and Logan recognized her clinical, detached profiler mode instantly. “She was raped. And he branded her on the back of her neck with the image of a hook.”

A heavy weight sank to the bottom of Logan’s stomach. “The Fishhook Rapist?” Every fall, Logan hoped not to see that name in the national news, but each year, it was there again. And this past September, he’d come to Florida. “You think the Fishhook Rapist is now a killer?”

“I think maybe he was always killing in between and we just never knew it.”

Logan let out a string of curses. “The burns on Theresa’s body,” he said. “That’s why you asked me if they could’ve been brands.”

“Yes.” Ella pulled her hand from his, turning to face him. “Logan, back in college, Maggie had long dark hair. She looked a lot like Theresa.”

Logan felt his shoulders slump. Could this get any worse?

“Logan—”

From Ella’s tone, Logan knew it was about to. “What?”

“The Fishhook Rapist seems to pick girls in their late teens or early twenties, girls with long dark hair and slender builds.”

“Like Theresa,” Logan agreed. “It makes sense. The women he lets go are his way of bragging, and in between, the others feed his twisted need for violence.”

“Logan, what I was going to say is that there’s someone else who fits that description.”

The room seemed to close in around Logan. He felt Ella grab his arm as he realized. “My sister.”

Chapter Six

“How sure are you that Theresa’s killer is the Fishhook Rapist?” Logan paced back and forth in front of her, running his hands through already messy hair, which made Ella’s fingers itch to slide through it, too.

“I’m
not
sure. It’s a theory. Based primarily on the hook-shaped burn on Theresa’s neck. It looks a heck of a lot like the Fishhook Rapist’s signature. But if it is the same person, then we’re not looking at a killer who’s been getting away with this for a few weeks or months. We’re talking about a perpetrator who has eluded the FBI for a decade.”

Logan stopped pacing. “Well, that’s a cheery thought.”

Ella hopped off the table and found herself standing closer to Logan than she’d expected. Close enough to see the scruff on his chin, the sexy curve of his lips. Close enough to imagine how easy it would be to reach her hand up and around the back of his neck, then pull him close and fuse her mouth to his.

Focus, Cortez.

She scooted quickly sideways to create a little distance. He inhaled sharply, as if he knew what she’d been thinking.

“Well, if it is the same person, do you think he’s sticking around here? The rapes happen once a year, in a different part of the country each time. Is he picking one location in between and killing? Or is he traveling the whole time like those highway serial killers the FBI is always after?”

Ella shrugged, frustrated. “I don’t know, Logan. I’ve studied the Fishhook Rapist for years and I never even considered that he might be killing in between until you brought me your case. But my gut tells me that if it is him, he’s not in our HSK database.” Because of the number of killers who picked up transient victims, often along highways, the FBI had created a database specifically to track those murders.

“The Fishhook Rapist is a planner in every single detail. And the evidence here suggests careful planning, too. Remember how we talked about his choice of drop site?”

“Knowing the kind of details about the marsh that a local would,” Logan agreed.

“Right. So, whether or not this is the same person, I think he’s been here a while, planning the details of the murder. And I don’t think he intended to leave anytime soon. But with the recent media coverage...” She sank into a conference chair.

“So, what do I tell my sister? Leave town? Stay here and move in with my parents?”

“Honestly, she’s probably safer here, with you looking out for her. But moving in with your parents until we catch this guy is a good idea. Also not going anywhere alone, since this guy is probably ambushing his victims. He most likely stalked Theresa before he killed her. And if Theresa was with Becky the whole time she was here...”

Logan cursed. “Great. Because I wasn’t feeling paranoid enough already.”

He grabbed the chair next to her, dragging it close so their knees were almost touching. His eyes locked on hers as if she had all the answers. “What else do I tell her to keep her safe, Ella?”

Panic fluttered in Ella’s chest. It was part of her job not just to advise on the behavioral makeup of killers, but also how to catch them, and how to keep the population safe until that happened. But the pressure of trying to keep Logan’s little sister out of harm—especially if she’d already been targeted—felt too intense, too personal. It felt way too much like her desire to protect Maggie.

A queasy, nervous feeling swam around in her stomach. She’d only known Logan a few days. Of course she wanted to keep his sister safe, but it couldn’t be as personal as Maggie. She couldn’t let it. Because as soon as she helped Logan catch this killer, she had to leave town. And she’d never see Logan again.

That thought made the queasiness dart upward, tension clamping her chest. She liked this guy, genuinely liked him, way too much.

Even if he didn’t live in a different state, her relationships were destined to be short-term. It didn’t matter how good her intentions were, how nice the guy was, it always ended after a few months. She’d get one important case after the next, get tunnel-visioned until it ended and then discover the guy hadn’t waited around.

“Ella?” Logan was still staring at her, but his gaze had turned questioning. “You okay?”

Ignoring the question, Ella said, “The best way to keep Becky safe is to keep her close. Drill it into her not to go anywhere she could find herself alone. This guy is smart, but he isn’t charming or confident. He’s socially awkward. He’s not going to approach her in a group somewhere and try to lure her away with him. He’s not going to come after her in your parents’ house, either. That’s not his style. He’d want her to come to him. He’d be waiting for an opportunity to create an ambush and he’d do it somewhere deserted. Just don’t give him that chance.”

Logan’s big hands wrapped around hers, instantly warming them, and sending a suspicious warmth upward. “Thank you, Ella.”

Oh, this was not good.

He stood, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’m going to give her a call.” He started pacing as he talked to Becky, gesturing with his free hand as he went into full-on big brother mode.

Ella tracked him with her eyes as he walked, thinking about all the details she had somehow catalogued without realizing it over the past few days. The way his green eyes darkened when he was worried. The way he looked at her with such compassion when he knew she was hurting. The way he could shift from serious, competent homicide detective to easygoing, teasing colleague to intense, irresistible potential lover in a heartbeat.

Oh, she was in so much trouble.

* * *

“
H
OW
COME
YOU
don’t have a partner?”

Logan glanced at Ella as they sped out of town in his Chevy Caprice, grinning as he purposely misunderstood her. “Interested in my love life, are you?”

She flushed and fidgeted and he tried not to laugh. “I meant, why don’t you have a partner in your job?”

His smile faded. “Because my last name is Greer.”

“Really? Your chief dislikes your dad so much that he wouldn’t assign you a partner? That seems...dangerous.”

“Not exactly,” Logan said, weaving around traffic as he headed toward the highway that Theresa would have taken to the airport, a stretch of road that was often deserted at night. Where Theresa might have been abducted by a serial killer as she drove to the airport at four in the morning. “But the whole force knows how much the chief resents me, so no one wants any of that coming down on them.”

Ella was silent, but one glance at her pensive expression and he knew more questions were coming.

She didn’t disappoint. “If it’s that bad, there must be easier places to work as a homicide detective. I don’t think you’d have trouble getting hired.”

“I think you’d better wait until this case is closed before you make predictions like that.”

“Oh, come on. You’re good at your job. I knew that the second you showed up at Aquia looking for a profiler.”

“And yet, you pulled your gun on me,” he teased, pleased that she thought he was good at what he did. Getting serious, he added, “I may not be planning to run for mayor or the chief of police like my family wants, but I can’t really imagine living anywhere else.”