If Looks Could Kill (17 page)

Michelle shook her head and made the sign of the cross over her chest. Hector followed suit. Madison was tempted to do likewise as she stared at Kyle.

“Oh dear,” Sheila murmured, “what a depressing end to such a wonderful evening.” She stood very close to Kyle, smiling up at him. “I admit I'm afraid to go home alone now.”

“Kyle has a car, he'll see you home,” Madison said, even though she hated the thought of Kyle driving Sheila home.

Was she protecting Jassy? she thought, mocking herself.

She felt a little sick inside. Jassy was newly in love. If it wasn't Kyle, could it be…?

Oh, God, she had to talk to her sister.

“That would be wonderful,” Sheila said, staring at Kyle. She appeared so petite, charming and wide-eyed with trusting adoration that Madison wanted to shake her.

“Sure,” Kyle said, staring at Madison. “We'll take Sheila home before going to your father's place.”

Sheila looked disgruntled; it wasn't quite what she'd had in mind. But she acquiesced, and it seemed that she really was somewhat nervous. She livened up, however, on the drive to her house, chatting away with Kyle in the front seat. She talked about being alone and how much she usually loved her independence. “Of course, now…but I refuse to allow an animal like that to ruin my life! I don't ever want to talk about him anymore. Madison, I hear your father is attending a gallery opening sponsored by Kyle's father. How intriguing that they remained such good friends.”

“The opening is Sunday,” Kyle told her. “We'd love to have you.”

“Why, I'd love to come with you. Thank you so very much.”

Kyle frowned. “Sheila, I didn't—”

“Oh, there's the house, right there. I'll just run in quickly. I've got my key—of course, I'm all thumbs right now. I hate to be such a nervous Nellie, but would you please come with me and just take a quick look around…?”

Madison kept quiet, all but seething in the back seat. Sheila knew damned well that Kyle hadn't asked her to the gallery opening on a date; it had been a general invitation. But Sheila had stated plainly that she was going to make a play for him, and that was what she was doing.

Kyle parked the car in front of Sheila's. But he didn't follow Sheila along the walk. He got out and looked into the back seat, at Madison. “Come on.”

“I'll just stay here and wait for you. I think she wants a kiss good-night.”

He shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. “Madison, surely you've seen enough slasher movies. The guy leaves one girl alone in the car, and, well, you know where it goes from there. I'm not leaving you alone. Come with me.”

“I'm not in any danger.”

“How do you know?”

“I'd sense it.”

He shook his head and was suddenly grave. “I think that's my main paranoia in all this. I'm really afraid that you won't sense it if you do become endangered yourself. Besides…”

“What?”

“You might not be in danger, but I am.”

“From…?”

“Sheila,” he said bluntly. “Get out. Come with me.”

“Sheila is just as cute as a button.”

“Yes, she is. Now come on, Madison, get out!” He hesitated. “Please?”

With a deep sigh, she obliged. They walked Sheila to the house, where Kyle managed to explain rather charmingly that he couldn't actually bring Sheila as his date, since he was obliged to be his father's gofer for the evening. Sheila promised that she would be there even so, and said that if she could help in any way, any way at all, well, she would be delighted to do so.

They left Sheila's place and drove out to Jordan Adair's waterfront estate. Martique was there, sleepily greeting them in the foyer, despite the quiet with which they approached the house. She quickly went back to bed, and they were alone, facing one another, once again.

Madison was going to tease Kyle about Sheila and the way he'd managed to wriggle out of an actual date, but he turned on her like a Doberman.

“Madison, I'm being dead serious, and you're going to listen to me and pay attention. The news is out. And people will panic. Half the women in Miami will be buying handguns by tomorrow. I just pray that there won't be any accidental deaths caused by someone who's frightened and trigger-happy. But I'm telling you, Madison, and I mean it—don't go off without letting me know again.
Me.
You made a fool out of me today, and you might have put yourself into grave danger.”

“Kyle! Damn it, I'm grateful, but I didn't do anything. You made a fool out of yourself. I appreciate the fact that you were worried, but you're not responsible for me.”

“No? Well, you're not fit to be responsible for yourself, so someone has to be.” He dragged his fingers impatiently through his hair. “Madison, give me a break here.”

“All right, Kyle, I won't make a move without your permission!” she muttered sarcastically.

He ignored the sarcasm. “Good,” he told her flatly.

“Fine,” she agreed.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

She turned around and started down the hallway to her bedroom.

“Madison!” he said, calling her back.

“What?” she asked, turning to him. She felt strangely on fire. They were here, together. Martique was here, too, but she had retired to her own little room out back, beyond the pool. Madison had been living so many fantasies regarding him. She was breathless, frightened, burning….

“Madison, have you noticed something?”

“What?”

He hesitated. “Well, I've been gone a long time, but…?”

“Yes?”

“Well, Jimmy usually calls on you not so much because you can feel and see from the victim's point of view, but because…” He hesitated as she frowned at him. “Sometimes you can see the killer, as well. This time you can't seem to get so much as a glimpse of the killer. What do you think that means?”

She shook her head, swallowing tightly, because he was right.

“I don't know,” she told him. “Do you?”

He shook his head. “No, I don't. But it's curious. And frightening,” he added softly.

“I'm all right,” she said firmly.

He nodded. “You will be. Good night, Madison.”

That time, he turned and walked away from her, down his hallway. She heard the door to his bedroom open…

And close.

She gnawed lightly on her lower lip, then turned and walked the distance to her own room. It seemed like a very long walk.

Filled with shadows.

 

Kyle stayed up late. He plugged in his computer and modem and, despite the hour, contacted Ricky Haines in Virginia. Ricky didn't care. His wife was a chemist with the bureau, and they were both dedicated to their work.

Ricky sounded a little sleepy, but he assured Kyle that he had been running information through the computer all day, investigating the records of tattoo parlors and trying to come up with some connection in the lives of the four women killed. “Nothing yet, but don't worry, we're on the case. How about you?”

“Yeah, I'm on the case. I'm in Key West right now—”

“Key West?”

“My stepsister is the psychic, remember? I followed her down here on a hunch.”

“Yeah, sure. You know your stuff, Kyle.”

Did he? It hadn't been necessary for him to leave Miami. He'd just been so disturbed, what with the vivid scene in his nightmare and the fact that Madison didn't answer her phone, that he had to see her. It didn't actually fall under business. And if the case began to break while he wasn't even in Miami…

The case wasn't going to break that easily. Unfortunately.

“Ricky, there is one thing.”

“What's that, Kyle?”

“They're all redheads.”

“Are they? From the one picture—”

“I know, you can't tell. It just appears that she had dark hair. But trust me, every one of the victims was a redhead.” He thought of his stepmother. “Work that angle for a while, okay?”

“Sure.”

He instructed Ricky to modem the most recent information on the lives of the victims into his PC, then said good-night. He sat for a while, studying the records of all four victims. Debra Miller, Julie Sabor and Holly Tyler had all been single, never married. Maria Garcia had been a divorcée. She'd left behind two small children. Her picture flashed on the screen, and Kyle got a sick feeling, deep in his gut. Sometimes he could be analytical. But sometimes it was impossible not to be human, not to feel the pain.

From what he had, he couldn't connect the women—except for the red hair. They lived and worked in different parts of town. Their jobs were completely different. Debra had been a Miami native, Julie from New York; Maria had been a Cuban immigrant, and Holly Tyler had been born in Minnesota. All that seemed to link them was the fact that they were all redheaded, young, vivacious and attractive. Maybe that
was
all, and maybe that was enough.

Kyle rubbed his forehead, thinking about the methods and motives of serial killers from the past. There was usually something about a woman that sparked something in a killer's mind. What was it? Just the hair, the vivacity? Where was the killer stalking his victims? Bundy had looked to college campuses, assured that he would find plenty of young, beautiful women there. But these women were slightly older, in their late twenties.

He was getting nowhere. And he wasn't nearly as tired as he wanted to be. He just didn't want to shower, then lie awake tossing and turning all night.

Worse. He didn't want to sleep and dream about trying to reach Madison, just down the hallway, and discover the killer lurking between them, his knife glinting in the moonlight.

Still, he turned off the computer and rubbed his eyes. He rose restlessly, then showered. When he'd soaped and scrubbed, he turned the tap all the way to cold. He stayed under the water for a long while, letting his flesh turn icy.

Finally he emerged from the shower and turned out the lights except for the one in the bathroom, which was just inside and to the left of the door to his room. Years of training had taught him to sleep in darkness and shadows while illuminating any possible entrance.

He closed his eyes, but he couldn't sleep. He opened them and stared up at the ceiling.

He could just get up, and walk down the hallway. No pretense. Just ask her if she wanted to sleep with him.

Too obvious. Oh yeah. Definitely too obvious.

He could just walk down the hallway and tell her that he'd gone for a drink of water, then taken a wrong turn while heading back to his bed.

She was probably sound asleep.

He'd seen the damned vision in his head so many times. He would step into her room, and there she would be. Maybe in a towel, maybe in silk. It wouldn't matter. Coverings would drift to the floor. We both want this, let's stop the arguing, let's do it, get on with our lives, get it out of our systems, maybe…

He couldn't do it; just couldn't. He thought that he knew Madison, thought that sometimes, just sometimes, the way she looked at him, the way she smiled when he caught her off guard…damn, the electricity was just there. If they didn't get to it soon…

He heard footsteps suddenly. Soft, furtive, moving quickly, just outside his doorway.

He tensed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and reaching quickly into the nightstand for his. 38 special.

His door opened slowly….

She was caught in the gentle light pooling from the bathroom through the partially closed doorway. She stood for a moment, blinded, while he sat in the darkness.

She wore silk.

A long emerald silk robe that clung to her body. Curved with it. Her hair spilled over it like a riot of fire in the night.

She had come to him.

“S
ay it again, say it again,” Jimmy Gates teased, planting kisses against Jassy's ankle.

She hesitated, laughing. “Morphometric.”

“Umm…more,” he begged, moving up her calf.

“Periosteum deposits.”

“When you talk medical, I just go mad!”

She burst out laughing, pushing at his shoulder, leaping out of bed.

“Hey!”

“I'm thirsty.”

“Oh, great. I'm making passionate love and you're after a Pepsi!”

“You're not making passionate love, you're teasing me, and you're making me laugh so hard my ribs hurt! Can I get you anything?”

He patted the bed. “Just you.” He paused a moment and shrugged. “And maybe a Michelob.”

“A Michelob, coming right up.”

Jassy scampered quickly in and out of the kitchen, naked. The light from the bedroom was enough for her to find the refrigerator. She grabbed a Pepsi and a beer, then a bag of chips for good measure, and ran back to the bedroom.

“What a woman!” Jimmy said, his eyes rolling dramatically. “Body parts, beer and chips—all in bed. How did I live so long without you?”

“Frankly, I don't know,” Jassy assured him, plumping up her pillow so that she could lean back and rip open the chips. “Want a chip?”

“Sounds like heaven.”

He sat up beside her, munching a chip and reaching for the remote control. He flicked on the television, where a local station was showing a repeat of the eleven-o'clock news. He watched the events of the morning, shaking his head. “We've got to catch this guy.” He glanced at Jassy unhappily. “You know, I've never failed to appreciate your sister, or to look out for her interests, when I've asked her to help me, but Kyle has me spooked on this.”

“Why?”

“Well, mainly because he keeps mentioning the fact that all the girls were redheads.”

“From what I understand, there's usually something that triggers this kind of killer. There was a case in California where a madman went only for brunettes. This man must like redheads. But I…Oh, I see. Madison is a redhead.” She was quiet for a minute. “But I can't see why Kyle would be especially worried about Madison. Kaila's a redhead, too.”

“Well, I'm sure he's going to worry about Kaila, too, except that she's married, and she's not likely to take off for the weekend with any new man.”

“Kyle went down to be with Madison?”

Jimmy nodded, swallowing a long drink of beer.

“Well, that's a relief.”

Jimmy frowned. “It sounds as if you're worried about her, too.”

“Everyone in the city is going to be spooked by tomorrow. Not that we don't have our share of homicides to begin with! But a serial killer…Yeah, I'm glad he's with my sister. He'll look out for her.” Jassy stared at him. “Why do you still look so unhappy?”

“Your stepbrother has
me
spooked, as well. And you know what?”

“No, what?”

“I've been thinking again.”

“About what?”

“Lainie Adair.”

“Lainie?” Jassy said.

He nodded. “She was definitely a redhead.”

Jassy exhaled. “A redhead with a fiery temper, all right.”

“You didn't get along with her?”

“Oh, I did! But that's because I always had my head in a book and I was no threat to her whatsoever. And after she and my father divorced…honestly, I was living with Dad, and I didn't see her that often. She just infuriated me sometimes, because…”

“Yeah, why?” Jimmy said, leaning back and studying her with interest.

“You want the truth?”

“Sure.”

“She was such a bitch. My father wasn't enough for her. Roger wasn't enough for her. They were both desperately in love with her. She had something, a special quality. Naturally, she was very sexy. And she was a star. The problem with her was that everything became a drama, or a game. She liked pitting my father and Roger against each other. She wanted every man in her life to think that she was the one woman he could ever really love. My dad never got over her. When she was mad at Roger, she would come running back to Dad. I don't know if they slept together once she married Roger, but if they didn't, it wasn't because she wasn't willing. Oh, Lainie could be charming. She adored her daughters, and I have to admit that she was always great to both Trent and me. But the way that she manipulated men was just awful!”

“Not that either Roger Montgomery or your father could be considered chaste, monogamous men,” Jimmy reminded her lightly.

“I guess not. Dad once told me—when she was still alive, of course—that he thought Lainie was God's punishment on him for all the mean things he'd done to other people. Who knows, if she hadn't died, she might have had my father and Roger shooting one another!”

“And instead, they're the best of friends.”

“Shared misery and anguish,” Jassy told him. “They drank together all night after Lainie's funeral.”

“It's interesting now to catch either of them when they're watching Madison.”

“Because she's the living image of Lainie.”

“Yes.”

“Strange, Kaila looks just like Lainie, too, but there's something different. I think it's because Madison has Lainie's presence. It's in her walk…the way she moves.” She glanced at Jimmy and added quickly, “Except, of course,” she added hastily, “that Madison is very different, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Madison isn't a bitch at all. She cares too much about everyone around her. Isn't that odd? She's like Lainie in so many ways, and not like her at all. Lainie was beautiful, spoiled and incredibly selfish. Madison, on the other hand, will go out of her way to be understanding. Actually, lately, Kaila has been the one acting more like Lainie.”

“Well, no one ever has to defend Madison to me. I think she's great. The best.”

Jassy punched him lightly in the shoulder. “You don't have to sound that enthusiastic!”

Jimmy smiled. “Behave. I care very much about your sister, and you know it. But in an entirely different way. She doesn't know how to talk medical blood and guts at all.”

Jassy laughed softly, running her fingers through his hair. “Thank God for my hidden talents.”

Jimmy smiled, but his smile faded. “She's a good kid, a great kid. But she
is
a copy of Lainie, and this has just got me thinking…. I don't know, these women, these victims, do resemble Lainie Adair.”

“Lainie has been dead a long time now.”

“I know, I know. I guess there can't be a connection. But still…”

“Still, what?”

He rose, reaching for his pants. “Jassy, there's something I've got to check on. Lock yourself in. You've got a gun, right?”

“You betcha—and I know how to use it.”

“Good girl. You can talk bullets to me later,” he said, winking, and left her.

Baffled, Jassy lay awake long after he had gone.

 

Madison…

She wasn't an image, a mirage. A dream.

A wet dream.

She was really there.

In silk.

“Madison…” Kyle murmured after a moment. “You should have knocked. I could have shot you.”

Her eyes focused on him in the shadows. He saw them widen. He'd been sleeping naked. He almost made an instinctive grab for the covers, but he didn't. He remained exactly as he was, seated, setting his gun on the nightstand. Her eyes moved over him, then met his.

“No. You wouldn't have shot me. Not you. You're far too good at your job,” she assured him.

He didn't reply. He thought her cheeks were exceptionally flushed. She didn't say anything for a long moment. Her lashes fluttered over her cheeks. Probably because she'd noticed his growing erection.

He stood, heedless of his state of arousal. After all,
she'd
walked into
his
bedroom.

“Well? What are you doing here?” he asked her, wishing his voice didn't sound so harsh. But his heart was thundering, his breathing was already labored, and his muscles, and more, were twitching with tension.

“I…” she began, then tossed back her hair, swallowed and started anew. “I couldn't sleep. And I felt…maybe you were still awake and wanted to talk.”

“To talk?”

She was silent for a moment, staring at him. Then she shrugged.

“All right, never mind. I suppose I didn't really think that you wanted to talk. But really, I couldn't sleep. Oh, hell, Kyle! Let's…let's do this, get it over with, get on with our lives.”

He started, staring at her, frowning deeply. “What?” he demanded with husky anger.

“I said—”

“Have you been in my mind, Madison?”

“What?” she queried crossly.

“I said—”

“No, I haven't been in your mind! I'm not a mind reader, damn it. There you go, treating me as if I'm an alien being or strange—”

“You have something, Madison. An ability, ESP, something. And people
do
like their thoughts to be private!”

“This was a mistake. Oh, God, what a mistake.”

She was trembling, shaking. It had taken her a lot to come here, no matter what her bravado, he realized.

She started to turn around, hair swirling in a wave of deep fire. She had come, fulfilling his fantasies, and he was about to lose her. Because the words she used had been the very words his own imagination had come up with so often.

He moved quickly, determined to stop her. Because if he let her go, she would never come back.

“Madison!” He caught her arm, drawing her back. She stared at him again, flushing deeply. Her eyes met his.

“We both want this,” he said to her. “Let's get on with it…. Hell, yes, let's get on with it.”

He pulled the single tie on the emerald silk robe. He'd known she wasn't wearing anything beneath it. He lifted it from her shoulders, then watched, fascinated, as the silk drifted down her form and fell to her feet.

He met her eyes for one minute, arching a brow. “We are talking about the same ‘it,' right?”

Her color deepened.

He smiled. And feasted.

He'd seen her before. Seen her in casual clothing, elegant clothing, bathing suits. But he'd never seen anything like Madison naked. Her breasts were high and full, her nipples large, dark and provocative. The hair between her thighs was as fiery a red as that on her head, while everything between was curved and smooth and so damned tempting he was afraid he would climax just looking at her.

Great beginning…

But he couldn't stand there staring for another minute. He would start twitching and spontaneously explode. A strangled grunt left his throat, a sound far more primal and animalistic than was politically correct, but at that moment, he couldn't quite give a damn. He all but wrenched her into his arms, lifting her against him. Her naked flesh rubbed erotically against his. He could feel the pounding of her heart, the rise and fall of her breasts as she gasped for air, her vibrance, her warmth…. He could breathe in the scent of her….

“Wait, Kyle!” she murmured suddenly.

“Wait?”

He paused, holding her tight against him, staring down into her eyes. They were wide, a liquid blue, staring back at him. “Kyle, you haven't…”

“I haven't?”

“You aren't…?”

He swore, ready to die.

“You're not—sleeping with my sister, are you?”

“Your sister? Which sister?”

“Jassy.” Her eyes widened farther. “Either of them!”

He smiled, shaking his head. “No. I'm not sleeping with either of your sisters. What the hell ever made you think that?”

“Jassy's seeing someone.”

“Not me. Can we get on with it?”

She nodded, still staring at him. Then her eyes closed as his lips molded over hers and he kissed her with a ravaging hunger, plunging his tongue into her mouth, invading, consuming with a sure promise of raw energy, passion and need. He continued to seek her mouth, her tongue, as he held her in his arms, sweeping her off the floor with him as he blindly sought the bed.

He fell with her upon it, his mouth still glued to hers, seeking, tasting, caressing, sharing hot, wet, sloppy kisses. He needed her, all of her. His lips moved from hers to her throat. His hands closed over her breasts, his fingers molding her nipples. His mouth followed, bathing her breasts, suckling the hardening peaks, drawing startled little sobbing sounds from her, his name, from her lips….