Heart of the Witch (31 page)

For a moment she could almost feel Marvin's pain, his terror. He'd been sitting in Nick's chair. He was happy, in a good mood—a state of mind she sensed was common with Marvin. She thought of his goofy charm, his guileless innocence, and a pang shot through her. She'd caused harm to come to him, too. When would it stop? Who else had to suffer before the Tin Man and Kayne were destroyed? Why hadn't she destroyed the murdering SOB when she first had the chance?

An impression came suddenly, and Ravyn's shoulders tensed. She saw something just on the edge of her mind's eye.
There
. It was stronger now… and a moment later all was clear.

Nick looked around the table at the five men handpicked by the captain. Two of them he'd worked with before, and they were good men. Two he didn't know, but the captain had the utmost confidence in their abilities. The other was Kyle Black, Scott Harris's former partner. Sonofabitch.

What the heck was the captain thinking? Black looked at Nick with seething hatred. Nick pretended not to notice, though the animosity was coming off the man in waves. He took a seat across from him.

Nick hadn't wanted to come to the meeting. It had already been a hell of a day, and this was the last thing he wanted to deal with. But he'd told the captain he'd be here. It might help take his mind off what had happened at his office—and Marvin's condition.

The task-force members filled Nick in on what they knew so far, which wasn't much. And they reminded him they'd had someone following Kayne but lost him.

Nick was in charge. "We should all work separately for the time being," he said. "The more we spread out, the more likely we are to spot him."

"I'll head to Wyldewood," volunteered Novack, one of the men Nick had worked with before.

Nick nodded. "I'll stick close to Miss Skyler. The rest of you go wherever your leads might take you. Anything comes up, anything at all, even a whiff, give the rest of us a shout. The important thing is to keep each other apprised."

"I have a question," Black said.

Nick looked at him expectantly.

"Let's say we're working the case"—his lips twisted in a sneer—"and you show up wasted off your ass. Or you pass out cold on us. What are we supposed to do then?"

One of the other men snickered, but Nick's eyes were on Black, and he wasn't sure which. He supposed it didn't matter. He was here to get things done. "Look, I know you have a problem with me, and I'm not sure why we're both here," he admitted. "But since we are, and since I'm in charge, I'm not putting up with any bullshit. We need to put our differences aside and work together, or you need to get the fuck out."

"Yeah, I got a problem with you," Black growled. "Anytime a cop stabs one of his brothers in the back I got a problem."

Nick stood and splayed his hands on top of the table, leaning forward to make it clear he wasn't afraid. "Harris may be your buddy, but he's a fucking psycho who shouldn't be on the streets. If you think it's okay for someone to abuse their power and beat up a little girl, you're as fucked as he is."

Black stood and puffed out his chest. "He didn't—"

"I was there!" Nick cut him off. "But I don't give a damn if you believe me or not. That's not the issue here. That's old news. The issue is whether we can work together or I have to have your ass replaced."

"I'm staying," Black growled.

"Then you'll keep your goddamned opinions to yourself."

The cop opened his mouth, but before he could speak Nick's phone rang. An unfamiliar number was listed.

He flipped the phone open. "Lassiter," he barked, his gaze still on Black.

"Was Marvin from Texas?" It was Ravyn.

"What?" Nick fought confusion. "No, I don't think so."

"Are you?"

"No, why? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Thanks."

"Wait. Where are you?" he asked. She didn't answer, but he heard the squawk of walkie-talkies and fading sirens in the background and knew. "What are you doing at my office?" he demanded.

"I need to go." She broke the connection, and he clenched the cell phone against his ear.

"We'll pick this up later," he told the task force. "Let me know if you find anything." Then Nick stalked from the room, hoping he'd find Ravyn before she once again did something that put her in danger.

When he got to his office, his heart dipped in his chest as the odor of wet, smoke-soaked wood and rubber assailed his nostrils. He even thought he could smell singed flesh, but that was probably his imagination.

The front of the building was mostly intact, but once inside he saw the gaping hole that had been his work space. He went weak with relief when he found Ravyn inside, unharmed.

"Mind telling me what the hell's going on?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I saw something. You have no connection to Texas?"

Nick shook his head. "No. Why?"

"I wonder if he does," she mused softly.

"What do you see, exactly?"

"An address in Garland. Just outside of Dallas."

Nick didn't know whether to believe in this intuition she claimed she had, but he had witnessed her rescue of the kidnapped boy, and he had nothing else to go on at the moment. He took her arm, steering her toward the front of the building and said, "You up for a road trip?"

The girls were fit and tan, their short cheerleader skirts flying up to reveal the matching panties beneath. Jay was far enough away that they shouldn't spot him, but close enough to hear their shrill voices squealing out their ridiculous cheers.

One of them in particular caught his eye. She was the only brunette in the group. She was different, and these days "different" appealed. She reminded him of Ravyn—a younger, more cheerful Ravyn, perhaps. He knew what he had to do. She was a little young, and not what he usually went for, but it had to be fate that he'd cruised by this school on his drive to clear his head.

It was a cool day, a bit nippy for the girls to be outside in those skimpy outfits. He could almost see the goosebumps on their firm young legs. He felt a tremble of lust work through his groin and he leaned back in his seat, hoping… But no, the physical desire was just an illusion. Like feeling in an amputated limb, it was a phantom sensation, and there was nothing he could do about it. Even if he had all six of those nubile young things alone, naked, at his mercy, frightened beyond their wildest nightmares…

He shook his head. Enticing, heart-stoppingly beautiful and terrifying, the bitch Ravyn Skyler would pay. Her sister's life wasn't enough. He'd make her pay, make her beg and scream with fear. This brunette cheerleader would be practice, though. She'd be a prelude of things to come.

He watched for a while longer, until practice ended. Then he trailed behind as the brunette walked to a black Camaro.

Two of the other cheerleaders, both blondes, climbed inside the car with her. Damn, she was surrounded by friends. But that was no problem. Jay slid behind the wheel of his car, keeping an eye on the Camaro. The brunette had to be alone sometime, and he'd wait. He was a patient man.

They arrived in Garland just before dark. Ravyn directed Nick to a neighborhood of almost identical middle-class homes with similarly manicured lawns. When he located the correct house number, he pulled over against the curb in front. Foliage with purplish berry-looking blooms clung to a small fountain that was flanked on either side by dwarf lawn ornaments. A silver Cadillac was parked in the driveway.

"It doesn't look like the home of a monster," Ravyn said quietly.

"They seldom do."

"What now?"

"You stay in the car. I'll knock on the door and check it out."

Ravyn was shaking her head before he completed the sentence. "I'm going with you. I've come this far, and I won't stop now."

Nick sighed in exasperation. "If the man who tried to carve you up is in there, I don't want to have to worry about watching out for you." He reached for the door handle. "You're staying in the car."

Ravyn grabbed his arm. "Please." He looked down at her hand on his sleeve. Even through the cloth, he could feel the burning heat of her touch. Her nearness made it difficult to concentrate, difficult to breathe. He couldn't have her with him when he faced whatever he was about to face. He had a feeling it would play out very badly if he did.

He placed his free hand over hers and looked into her eyes. "I don't know if you realize it, but I've grown to care about you." He looked down and rubbed his thumb over the soft skin just below her knuckles. "Through my mistakes I already allowed something to happen to your sister. I couldn't deal with it if"—he cleared his throat and raised his eyes back to her—"if something happened to you, too. Stay in the car."

He opened the door and without looking back approached the house. Slipping a hand down to the Beretta in its holster, he was reaching for the bell when he heard a noise behind him. He whirled, at the same time starting to draw the gun.

"Jesus, Ravyn." Shakily he let the gun slide back in place. "Don't you listen to anything? At least stay behind me."

She did, and he rang the doorbell. From inside he could hear a game show playing on a television. After a moment, a woman's voice traveled through the closed door. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"I'm a detective, ma'am. I have a few questions, if you'll please open the door." He lifted his PI badge to the peephole, hoping she wouldn't study it too closely.

The door was opened by a woman who looked to be in her early sixties. She was trim, with black frame glasses and gray hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. She wore jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt with a green and gold plaid vest. Not knowing her name or where to start with the questioning put Nick in an awkward position. He decided to wing it.

"We're investigating a string of robberies in Oklahoma City," he told her after she'd offered both him and Ravyn a seat in an immaculate, tastefully decorated living room. "A piece of mail with this address was left at one of the scenes, but the name was obliterated. The envelope was tattered, and only the address was visible. We're chasing down anything and everything, and wondered if we could chat with you for a moment, Mrs… ?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "This sounds very bizarre."

"Yes, it most definitely is," Ravyn inserted. "But we have absolutely no leads, nothing. At this point, we're grasping at straws."

The woman nodded. "I see. I'm Kay O'Connell, and I have no idea why mail with this address would be at the scene of a robbery." She laughed. "I'm a widow, I live alone, I'm sixty-five years old and I haven't robbed anyone in… oh, I don't know, years."

Nick smiled at the woman and cut Ravyn a look from the corner of his eye. She had to have been way off on this one. He searched his brain for something else to ask but came up blank. He was about to thank the woman and say his good-byes when Ravyn spoke again.

"How did your husband die?"

Mrs. O'Connell's eyes flew to Ravyn's. "Why?"

Ravyn shrugged. "I just want to know."

The woman cleared her throat and looked down at her clasped hands where they rested in her lap. "Three years ago, my husband was in a car accident. He died shortly after reaching the hospital." She lifted her head and her eyes were wet. "I never got to say good-bye."