Rising Heat (75 page)

“Did you find anything at my house? Did you figure out how the guy got in?”

“No and no,” Detective Cutter replied, tossing the pen he held down on the papers scattered on his desk blotter. “The initial search didn’t turn up anything. As Hawk stated, no doors or windows seem to be jimmied. Chances are, the guy got his hands on a key or might have been able to duplicate it.”

“But how—?”

“Do you take your keys with you everywhere you go? Do you keep them in your pocket every minute of the day?” Cutter shrugged. “Not to mention the fact that the guy could just be good at picking locks.”

I glanced at Hawk. He nodded. “That’s the more likely possibility.”

I stared at Hawk a moment, then back at Detective Cutter. “Then how do I keep myself safe? What good does it do to lock my windows and doors if he’s just going to get in anyway?” Once again I felt the fear bubbling inside me, threatening to erupt. “And don’t tell me to get an alarm system either. All he would have to do to disable that would be to cut the wires—”

“The alarm company would be notified,” Detective Westin broke in.

I glanced at him. “And then what? The alarm company would check on it, probably call my phone, which I probably wouldn’t answer in the event I was in the process of being attacked, and then they would call you. By the time you got out to my house, I could very well be lying in my bathtub with my throat slit from end to end—”

“Tracy,” Hawk broke in.

“Don’t Tracy me,” I snapped. I looked at Detective Cutter and then Westin. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Do you have any leads at all as to who’s responsible for this? What about those other women? Are there any leads in their cases?”

Westin frowned. “Not yet, but we’re working on it.”

“I don’t mean to be bitchy, but you better work a little bit harder. That bastard called me at my motel room last night.”

Both Cutter and Westin frowned and exchanged a glance. Westin sat forward in his chair while Cutter shifted his gaze between me and Hawk.

“What? When?”

“At about three-thirty this morning,” I said.

“What did he say?”

I turned to Westin. “He said he knew where I was.” I huffed. “That’s just dandy, isn’t it? You want to tell me how the hell he knew I was at a motel, or better yet, that particular one, or even that room?”

I suppose I sounded accusing
and
bitchy, but I couldn’t help it. They weren’t the ones with some creep after them. Oh, I knew that they were probably doing the best they could, but that didn’t help me right now, did it? I saw a flash of annoyance in Westin’s gaze, probably provoked by my tone, but it was gone an instant later. I muttered an apology.

“I’m on edge. I’m not working and I can’t go home. I can’t stay at a motel. I can’t do much of anything until this guy is caught.” Frustration was heavy in my tone. “What am I supposed to do?”

Cutter sighed, glanced at Hawk and then back at me.

“Do you have any family you can go visit?” Westin suggested. “Until this is over?”

I saw the look that Cutter gave Westin and frowned. “Something’s happened.” I didn’t ask. It was a statement. Neither of them said anything. I glanced at Hawk. Saw the expression on his face. He knew! I looked at the three of them, taking turns trying to stare each of them down. “What aren’t you guys telling me? I have a right to know. After all, this is my life we’re talking about!”

Still, none of them said anything.

“I can handle it,” I said, my voice sounding close to whiny. “Dammit, just spit it out. What’s happened?”

Finally, Detective Cutter spoke. “Another woman’s been murdered.”

I gasped. “Where?”

“Next town over,” Cutter replied, gesturing with his head toward the east.

God, how many women were going to die before they caught this guy? I didn’t feel at all relieved to know that I wasn’t the only woman being stalked. And then I asked. “Did he leave notes for her too? The drawing of the rose with a skull and cross bones in it?”

Cutter shook his head, glanced at Westin, and then at Hawk. I looked at all of them as well, in reverse order. I could tell none of them wanted to tell me. “Then how do you know it’s the same guy?”

None of them said anything for several seconds. I repeated the question, a little louder, a little more desperate. “Then how do you know it’s the same guy?”

“Let’s just say he left a clue — maybe.”

I made a noise conveying my sense of impatience and frustration. “What kind of clue? Come on, you guys. I need to know. I’m in this up to my eyebrows! What kind of clue did he leave?”

Westin said nothing. Neither did Hawk. Cutter looked at me and sighed. “We took all the pieces of remaining… underwear from your home, had them tested, but we wondered if the stalker might have taken any items with him…”

I felt bile rise in my throat. How disgusting. The thought of the creep handling my underwear, sniffing it, doing God knows what with it… I waited for Cutter to continue. The question he asked me was the last thing I expected.

“Miss Whitcomb, do… did you own a pair of yellow silk panties with off-white lace edging along the top? Bikini cut?”

I stared at him a moment, surprised by the question, and not just a little embarrassed. “Yellow silk?” My mind was racing.

He nodded. “Not lemon yellow, but a buttercup yellow.”

And then I literally did feel the blood drain from my face. I felt cold. My eyes widened. I stared at Cutter. “That sounds familiar,” I admitted weakly.

Cutter nodded at Westin, who immediately left his desk and headed out of the office. I followed him with my eyes and then turned back to Cutter. “Where is he going?” I had a gut feeling that I already knew.

“He’s going downstairs to check the evidence for a pair of buttercup yellow panties with lace trim.”

“But if you thought the stalker might have taken them—” I stopped, feeling totally sick to my stomach. Nausea rose in my throat. My hands began to shake. “Don’t tell me,” I continued, my voice a mere whisper, horrified.

“The murder victim was wearing a pair of panties of that description.”

Despite my alarm, my horror, I couldn’t help but sound hopeful. “So what makes you think that they weren’t hers? I’m not the only one that orders from Victoria’s Secret you know.” Cutter said nothing for a moment and then leaned forward, placing his forearms on his desk as he looked me straight in the eyes.

“The victim was a seventy-five-year-old woman.”

While I was processing the horror of that statement, he glanced at Hawk. I saw it. “What?”

Cutter shook his head. “The old woman looked a lot like the image of the older woman on your mantle.”

I couldn’t believe it. I felt angry, horrified, heartbroken, and scared all at the same time. But one thing struck me. I certainly wasn’t an expert in homicide investigations, stalker cases, or even serial killers, but I did know one thing. “Don’t they pretty much stick to a type? The last two women and I are brunette, and young. Why suddenly change his, whatever you call it, and attack an older woman?”

“Maybe he’s making a point,” Hawk suggested into the silence.

“What kind of point?” I demanded. Just then, Westin returned, shaking his head.

“What?” I asked.

“No sign of buttercup yellow silk panties with a white lace trim. If you had a pair like that, then he took them with him.”

Once again, the idea made me sick. For a second, I looked for the trash can, sure that I was going to throw up. What next? What was going to happen next? When was the other shoe going to drop? I didn’t have long to wait.

C
utter cleared his throat. “Miss Whitcomb, we could consider a safe house—”

I immediately opened my mouth to protest.

“Family? Didn’t you say you had family out west?”

I stared at him in dismay. “And what makes you think he might not follow me there? Am I supposed to drag my family into this?”

“We have a safe house,” Westin suggested. “It might only be for a day or two.” He paused, tapping his pen on the desk in an irritating rhythm. “To be honest, we don’t have much of an operating budget to keep you under police protection for more than a couple of days.”

“Can you find this guy in a couple of days?” I shook my head. “You might never find him.” That thought settled like a heavy lump of spaghetti deep in my stomach. What would I do if they couldn’t catch the guy? Was I supposed to live in fear, constantly looking over my shoulder, afraid to go home? For the rest of my life? The lump in my stomach morphed into a knot of despair.

“I could take her up to my cabin,” Hawk suggested.

Cutter shook his head. “You don’t have cell service up there, Hawk. Damn, you don’t even have any electricity or running water up there. Besides, if you’re being watched—”

“Someone else can take her up there,” Hawk said, gesturing over his shoulder. “The bastard can’t be everywhere at once, can he?”

I stared at Hawk. A cabin? Out in the middle of nowhere? If he didn’t have cell service, electricity, or running water, there was no way in hell I’d be able to access my laptop. Once again, I thought of my business. How was I supposed to pay my bills if I couldn’t work? I had worked so hard to build my reputation, to grow my business, and now I was having to consider the possibility that I would lose it all. I blinked back tears, refusing to let any of these men see them.

I shook my head. “I have a business—”

“A business that won’t run if you’re dead,” Hawk said bluntly.

I stared at him, wide-eyed that he would even say such a thing. Then again, it was true. I glanced at Cutter and then at Westin. Both nodded encouragement. I turned back to Hawk.

“Only for tonight,” I caved. “I could use a decent night’s sleep. Nobody around here knows where your cabin is?”

“Just a few family members, but nobody’s up there this time a year.”

I glanced at the detectives. “Oh, what the hell.” I finally nodded in agreement.

“I can drive her up there,” Westin said, looking at Hawk.

Hawk eyed him for several moments.

“I can drive her up there,” Cutter broke into the awkward silence.

“No, I can get it,” Westin said. “I’m taking care of an errand for Sarah later today and a roundabout route with stops along the way would look more natural.”

Who was Sarah? His wife?

“I can run a couple of errands, make sure no one’s following us.” He extended a small pad of paper toward Hawk. “Write down the directions.”

This was happening so fast I wasn’t sure what to think. And then Westin was speaking to me again.

“You need to pick up anything from your house? Cutter or I could go out there, get what you need and it wouldn’t look suspicious to the guy… if he’s watching your house. He’s got to know that we’re aware that we know he was in your house, that we’re investigating.”

I shook my head, unable to even process the question. With Westin’s comment, all I could think about was the stalker getting into my house, spying on me, shredding my underwear, maybe thinking of the most horrible way he could kill me?

“Neither of you are taking her to my cabin,” Hawk said bluntly.

He scowled at all three of us. What had I done to earn such a look?

“My mother will take her up there.”

His mother?

“You have a problem with us knowing where you live, Hawk?” Westin asked. “You doing things up there that you shouldn’t be doing?”

Hawk glared at Westin and shook his head. “Not at all. I just don’t necessarily want you guys knowing where my cabin is. Simple as that.”

I could’ve cut the sudden tension in the room with a knife. There goes another cliché, but there wasn’t any other way to phrase it. I wasn’t sure what I wanted. Would I feel better if one of the detectives or even Hawk drove me up to his cabin? I wasn’t sure. But his mother? His
mother?
What would she think? Had Hawk told her anything about me or my case? I glanced at Hawk, made a frantic but short movement with my head as if to say no. I didn’t want to get any of his family involved in this.

He seemed to sense my thoughts and explained. “It’s out in the middle of nowhere. Only a few people in my family know where it is. It’s been in our family for generations.” He glanced at Cutter and then Westin. “I don’t think any of the family members would be too thrilled if you guys knew about the place.”

“Why not?” Westin asked, sounding perturbed. “You doing something illegal up there?” he repeated.

“Westin,” Cutter said softly.

“No, we’re not doing anything illegal up there,” Hawk replied again. “Let’s just say that as far as my family is concerned, it’s off-limits to—”

“Cops?” Westin broke in, his voice tinged with annoyance.

“White people,” Hawk said, staring at Westin without expression.

Westin made a face and then gestured toward me.

“What about her? She’s white.”

“Okay, enough,” Cutter said, leaning back in his chair. The wood squeaked, sounding loud in the now silent room. “Maybe it’s a good idea that neither one of us take her. If the guy is watching Miss Whitcomb, chances are he’ll notice if either one of us are with her in a car driving off into the woods. On the other hand, if she goes to visit his family, it would be easier for the family to help her disappear. No one knows where Hawk’s cabin is. Probably the safest place for her to be for the time being.”

Again I wasn’t too sure about this. Although I could rough it, and I wasn’t that disturbed about the fact that the place was rustic, maybe it would be good to get away for a day or two, give the police the chance to find the creep. Maybe if I wasn’t seen for a couple of days, he would begin to lose interest, look for someone else to bother. I regretted that thought immediately. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.

“If she goes up there without any ability to communicate, it’s going to be up to you, Hawk, to keep us informed. She’ll be completely isolated up there.”

I turned to Westin, then Hawk. Isolated. Westin had a very valid concern. “How will I know what’s happening?” I asked, turning to Hawk. “What if something happens?”

“I’ll come up in the evening, spend the night up there—”