Stranded (24 page)

Noah couldn’t believe how calm he suddenly felt. Finding Ethan meant he hadn’t imagined that horrible night. It shouldn’t have made him feel better, and yet there was relief. He breathed in the crisp spring air. The sun had started to slip behind the ridge and the sky was already filled with streaks of pink and purple. With the sun went the warmth of the day and he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets as he walked alongside the FBI agent.

She was shorter than him. The jeans she wore were soiled at the knees and he noticed some raw scrapes on her forearms where she had her shirtsleeves shoved up above her elbows. Her short hair was tousled, though it wasn’t windy. Despite the chill in the air, she didn’t appear cold at all. And here, right now like this, she appeared younger. Not as intimidating. She certainly didn’t look like an FBI agent.

He had questions for her but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers. He knew she was waiting for him to speak first. They had walked a block before he realized he’d have to tell her something.

“It wasn’t us that was stranded,” he finally started. “We thought he was. He said his car wouldn’t start and his cell phone battery had died. He had his arm in a sling.”

And stupid Ethan rolled down the car window. We were so close to home
.

“What did he look like?”

“It was dark. He wore a ball cap low over his eyes.” He knew he’d never forget those eyes, narrow set and black. They looked like they belonged to a wolf.

She was waiting for more. He’d never tell.

Can’t tell. Promised I wouldn’t tell
.

“How tall was he?”

Noah shrugged like he couldn’t remember.

“As tall as you?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He saw her push back a strand of her hair and let out a frustrated sigh.

“You’ve got to give me more than that, Noah.”

The tightness returned to his chest. What if the madman was watching his house? What if he was watching them right now? Did he know this woman was an FBI agent? No, there was no way he would think she’s anything more than a family friend.

“He had a knife hidden in the sling.” Noah’s eyes darted around and over his shoulder.

She glanced at him but didn’t say anything. He could feel his breathing change. That fight or flight panic kicking him in his gut.

“I ran.” He wiped his sleeve across his forehead. He was still chilly but sweating. “I left Ethan and I ran.”

“That’s it?”

That was it. That was all she was getting. Can’t tell. Don’t tell
.

“I ran. I left him there with that madman.”

He took a gulp of fresh air. Let it out slowly. Their pace had slowed but they continued walking. His pulse was still racing. He was two or three steps ahead when he realized she had stopped.

“So how did you end up with Ethan’s blood on you?”

“I guess he must have cut Ethan.” He shook his head, wanting the images to stay away. He did
not
want to see the knife plunge in again. The blade slicing flesh. The sound of joints snapping. “There’s a lot that’s still blurry,” he lied and closed his eyes against the memories that came flooding back without control. There was nothing blurry about them, but with any luck, that’s what Agent O’Dell might think.

When he opened his eyes she was staring at him. She didn’t believe him and she didn’t care if he knew that she didn’t believe him. She waited for him to meet her eyes.

“I’m your best bet for catching this killer, Noah. And if I don’t, you have to know he’ll be back. He won’t give you a chance to run a second time.”

Then she turned and walked away from him. He watched her return to her SUV, never once glancing back at him.

CHAPTER 47

Maggie got back to the Holiday Inn just as twilight transformed the sky into a neon blue. When she walked into the hotel room she noticed the doors connecting hers and Tully’s rooms were still open. She could see Tully’s bathroom door was closed and the sound of the shower brought her overwhelming comfort. She left the doors open.

Earlier her nerves had been frayed. She had come close to grabbing Noah Waters by the jacket collar and shaking him until he told her the truth. Now exhaustion seeped in, replacing adrenaline. Her body ached from climbing down the ravine. At the veterinary hospital she had washed off the dirt and wiped her face with harsh brown paper towels. She knew she’d find cuts and bruises once she started removing her clothing. A long hot shower would help.

She was glad Tully was here. He’d listen and shrug and say something that would put everything back in perspective. Then he’d suggest they order room service, some beers, more of those sliders that he gobbled up last night.

She heard the shower turn off. She’d give him time to put some clothes on. She checked her cell phone. The battery was almost dead. There was only one voice message, from a number she didn’t
recognize. She dug her charger out of her laptop case and plugged it in. Checked again and noticed a text from Ben.

“YOUR BOYS R MISSING U.”

A photo was attached and she opened it to find not just Jake and Harvey mugging for the camera, but Ben and his Westie, Digger, too.

“Your boys.” She read the single line of text again. Did he mean Harvey and Jake or was he including Digger and himself?

She heard noise next door. Tully was out and it sounded like he was shoving around furniture.

She went to the adjoining doorway. “Hey, are you decent?” she asked as she walked in. Creed stood at the other side of the room wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh, my God, I’m sorry.” Immediately she felt her face go hot. “I was expecting Tully.” She took one step back and dipped her head but her eyes darted back to his chest, his torso, his legs.

“No, it’s okay. Come on in. I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

To leave now would be an admission that she actually did mind. And he honestly didn’t seem to care. He went back to what she had interrupted, spreading out a folded map over the bed closest to the window. Her eyes took the opportunity to scan the length of him. But then she felt the heat flush more than her face. What the hell was wrong with her?

“Is Tully here?”

“He should be back pretty soon. He took my Jeep. Had an errand or something.”

He kept opening the rest of the accordion map, fold by fold, and smoothing the creases. He seemed completely unaware of how low the towel hung on him, exposing the indent of lean hip muscles.

When she didn’t say anything, he continued, without looking up, “Lopez dropped him off at the vet hospital. The Holiday Inn doesn’t have any more rooms. Tully said I could crash with him.” He was intent on the map, bending at the waist now and running an index finger over it in search of something. Then suddenly Creed glanced up at her. “I’m sorry. We should have cleared it with you.”

“No, don’t be silly. It’s fine. And there’s plenty of room. Two double beds in both rooms.” Now she was babbling and she wasn’t a woman who babbled. Why did she just tell him how many beds there were?

“How’s Grace?” she asked, wanting to take her mind off his long legs and broad shoulders. He could be the poster model for six-pack abs.

“She’s good.” He stood up straight, his thoughts back to Grace instead of the map. His hair was still damp and tousled from the shower. His jaw, dark and unshaven. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I waited until she woke up before I left. I wanted to stay long enough to make sure she understood I was there. That she was okay. Not scared. Well, you know, you’ve got dogs. You reassure them as best as you can.”

She kept her eyes on his as she listened and witnessed yet another transformation of this man. Over the course of two days she had watched him go from quiet, proficient professional to frantic, macho protector to sullen, contemplative rescuer to this: a concerned, gentle—totally hot—caretaker.

She didn’t realize that they were staring at other each for a beat too long until he smiled.

“So what exactly are you doing?” She dropped her eyes to the map but she could feel his still on her.

“I bought this map downstairs.” Thankfully, his mind was
back to his search. “It has South Dakota and Iowa, Nebraska and Kansas. I thought there might be some connection, some pattern, to the highway sections he’s chosen. Interstate 70 goes all the way to Washington, D.C. Take a look.” And he gestured for her to come around to his side of the bed.

“I don’t mind waiting if you want to throw some clothes on.”

“I don’t have any. My duffel bag’s still in the Jeep.” He looked up at her, again. She hadn’t moved. “If you’re uncomfortable—”

“No, of course, not.” She made herself take one step, then another, until she was at the end of the bed, hitching her neck to the side so she could see the map without coming around the bed and standing right beside him.

“Okay, so show me what you’ve got,” she said and immediately blushed at her poor choice of words.

Creed didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he was giving her a pass. She pushed a strand of hair back behind one ear. Then planted her hands on her hips and stared at the map.

Focus, O’Dell
, she told herself.

This close she could smell his freshly scrubbed skin, the hotel’s shampoo. A quick glance and she noticed a scar on his jawline, a half inch of white more pronounced in the unshaven bristles. Her body was still too conscious of his. She was exhausted, that’s all. It was more difficult to shut down basic physical responses when the body was fatigued. This time when he glanced up at her, he did notice. And his eyes locked on hers.

She wasn’t sure how it happened. But she knew she had done nothing to stop it. It started with a kiss, gentle and tentative, almost as a test. When he pulled her against him, Creed lost his balance and fell backward onto the bed. An accident? Intentional? At that point it didn’t matter. He fell and didn’t let go, bringing her down on top of him.

She had one chance to call it all an accident. In an attempt to catch her balance, she ended up with one outstretched arm on each side of him, holding herself up, mere inches keeping their chests apart. But the rest of her body was already pressed against his. He could have pulled her down the rest of the way, but he left the decision to her. Left her on her own to fight the magnetic field. Eyes serious. No hint of humor. Locked on each other again. Creed arched his back and lifted his head, eyes still not leaving hers. His lips teased her chin, then her jaw, her neck, and moved down to her collarbone.

The knock on the door sounded like a warning gunshot.

“Hey, Creed, it’s Tully. I forgot, I gave you my key card.”

In an instant, Maggie felt like a busted teenager getting caught. She scrambled awkwardly off Creed and off the bed. The map beneath them crackled in an explosion of noise and her feet hit the floor with a thump. She was embarrassed and flushed—even more flushed when she saw that Creed’s towel had come loose.

“Creed, you there?”

She tiptoed toward Tully’s voice.

“Hold on. I just got out of the shower,” Creed called out to Tully.

Maggie was across the room and almost out the adjoining room’s doorway when she stopped and glanced back at him. He met her eyes and gestured for her to continue. But there was no playful smile. No signal of regret or cocky swagger. Just an intensity. She could still feel it between them, so much so that when she stepped into her room, she closed the door that connected the two rooms and locked it.

CHAPTER 48

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for Gwen to host a meeting about a serial killer in her home. Agent Alonzo had managed to turn her warm and friendly dinner into a grotesque slide show. Her mind still reeled from her doctor’s phone call, making it difficult to concentrate. Several times when she looked across her huge mahogany dining room table she caught Julia Racine watching her. Thankfully the detective had the good sense to look away, even appearing a bit embarrassed at getting caught.

Once again, despite the wireless electronic gadgetry that Agent Alonzo had brought, he now focused on the paper map of the United States attached to a poster board. He had set it up at the end of the room on a very thin and sleek easel. It had reminded Gwen of a magician’s wand when Agent Alonzo unfolded it from a small bundle of foot-long rods that he had pulled out of a cute satchel. When she first saw that satchel she had smiled, thinking it looked like the agent had brought a toiletry kit for an overnight stay. That’s the way her mind was working tonight, ever since the phone call. She could take the simplest of things and turn them into the absurd. Perhaps that’s what cancer did to one’s mind.