Temperature Rising (3 page)

“Hey, MacDaniels, this one’s for you.” It wasn’t until his mind answered,
she sure is
, that he realized Hammond had really called to him. When the woman turned toward him, he almost repeated the words out loud.

It only took a second for him to make an assessment: pretty, nice, lost. She looked totally out of place. There was an uncertain anxiety about her. She wanted to get out of there. Her eyes darted to the door, and Mac knew he was about to lose her. He moved into her path. The green eyes shifted right to him, and even at ten feet away, he could see the gold flecks in them. They were incredible eyes. There was no toughness about them, which meant she was a victim. That kicked up the protector in him, and he headed for her, ready to slay dragons.

Behind him he could hear Jonesy still talking. “You know Connie wouldn’t do that. Mac… Mac?”

The woman turned back toward Hammond. Several people moved in Mac’s path, but he kept a lock on the woman.

Jonesy moved beside him. “See something interesting?”

“I think so.”

Mac studied her as he approached. Her height would’ve been about five-eight, though she wore boots with about a three inch heel, perfect for him. She had on a brown sweater-jacket that hugged her curves and a swirly patterned skirt that flared at the top of the boots. Her light brown hair hung long and straight around her shoulders. He’d interviewed enough women to know the look was called dressy casual. For him, it was just appealing.

Her hands swung out as she talked, and his vision locked on the left one. No ring, he acknowledged with a surge of pleasure. Then her voice reached him, velvet soft, though it was laced with hesitancy. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. It isn’t important. I’m sorry.” She turned and stepped right into him. “Oh,” she gasped.

Mac caught her under her elbows and steadied her. Her green eyes came up to his face and stayed there. Obviously shocked, but he wondered if it might be a touch of awareness that held her like it did him.

Oh, yes, she was for him. “You wanted me?” He managed to get out.

“I—” She swayed slightly, and he steadied her again.

“Mac, she needed to talk to someone about the Chambers murder,” the sergeant spoke up behind her.

That got his attention. It shouldn’t have surprised him though, because if she needed to talk to him, it had to involve a murder.

“Won’t you come with me?” He kept a hold of one elbow, stepping to the side to direct her to the elevator.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” She stumbled over the words.

He knew she was going to flee if he didn’t act fast. “No bother. I’m Detective Spencer MacDaniels. This is my partner, Marcus Jones.” Like a good partner, Jonesy maneuvered to the other side of her, effectively trapping her in between them. Luckier still, the elevator opened, and they were able to usher her in before she could turn away.

“Laken Williams,” she returned hesitantly. He figured she answered more out of manners than really wanting to say.

“Laken.” He let her name slide over him. “I like it. It’s different. I don’t think I’ve ever met a Laken before.”

“It’s not very common.” She glanced furtively over at him. “I really think it best I leave before I waste your time.”

“Why don’t you let me decide? First, let’s get settled at my desk and you can tell me what brought you here.”

Her eyes went from him to Jonesy and back again.

Mac could tell she wanted to decline but her shoulders slumped in resignation.

“I have a call to follow up on,” Jonesy announced as they approached their desks. “I’ll catch up to you in a minute.”

Mac sent his partner a look of thanks. Once they were settled, he turned to her. “Now, how can I help you? Were you a friend of Miss Chambers?” He felt a wave of relief when she shook her head. So he wasn’t dealing with someone torn up because of the loss of a friend. But she was — unsettled — that fit her he decided.

“Then,” he started gently, “you have some information for me.”

“I don’t know.” The words burst from her. “This is all a mistake. I’m not sure what I was thinking. Well, I was thinking maybe I could help, but I can’t. I’m sorry. I really need to go.”

Mac reached over the corner of the desk and caught her hand. It was soft. She had long fine fingers. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, and she seemed to ease. “Let’s start with the basics. Name?”

“Laken Ann Williams.” It came out shaky, but she gave it to him and started to relax.

Across the room someone slammed a file draw and swore. She jerked and the nervousness flooded right back in.

“I’m not some nutcase,” she blurted out.

He couldn’t keep back a smile. “That’s nice to know. What are you?”

“An architect. I really am quite logical. I’m not sure how to explain this. But I’m not lying or making it up.”

“It’s okay. Why don’t you tell me tell me your address and phone number?” he urged softly.

“All right, I just want you to understand.” She steadied herself in the chair, and he saw strength under the nervousness.

A lot of people were anxious around police, like they were afraid they were going to be arrested. He’d have to get her to see him as just a man. His attention caught on her address. It was only three blocks from where they found the victim. “Good, now why don’t you tell me what you know?”

Again it was plain to read her hesitation and how she worked formulating what she wanted to give him. He felt a kick of sadness that she wouldn’t just open up.

She locked her fingers together in her lap. “I think I saw the killer.”

Her words took him by surprise. He had expected her to wash over things or lie. He leaned forward, feeling his excitement rise over his interest in her as a woman, and she became a witness. “You saw the killer?”

“I think,” she hesitated, “I did.”

****

Laken wasn’t sure what to say. She should never have come, but she had to do something. She couldn’t let him kill again, and she knew he would. He was a predator. She remembered that clearly.

“Can you give me a description?”

She jerked at the question and looked at the detective, feeling a touch of longing. It would be easier if she hadn’t felt so… unsettled, since meeting him. She didn’t know what it was about him, but he disturbed her already unbalanced senses. She needed all her wits about her if she was going to come out of this without sounding like a fruitcake, and she was having trouble getting past how her heart jumped every time she looked at him.

She took a deep breath. Okay, she could do this. Then he’d think she was nuts, and she would never see him again, but she had tried to do what was right. Still, she felt a sense of loss and pushed past it. “Not really, I couldn’t see much of him. He had a raincoat on and a hat with a wide brim. It was pulled down low on his face. He wasn’t as tall as you, six foot, maybe six-one.”

“And how tall do you think I am?”

“I’d say close to six-three.”

“Good, I’d like you to tell me everything. Where you saw the man, what you saw leading up to and what you witnessed?”

She took a deep breath. “Two nights ago, Wednesday, I was coming home late from work. I took the bus to Wilken. I’m not sure what time exactly, after eight–thirty but before nine. I wasn’t feeling good. I had a fever. All I could think of was getting to the pharmacy and getting some medicine. Just before I got there, I noticed a woman.” The tremor shook her voice. “She was the one from the picture in the paper. It took me awhile to place it, but it was her. She went into the pharmacy before me.”

“Did you recognize her? Had you seen her before?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me what she was wearing?”

Laken thought for a moment, suppressing the image of the attack as it tried to surface. “A tan raincoat, nylons, so she was wearing a skirt or dress.”

She waited while he made a couple notes.

“Continue, please.”

“I really wasn’t paying much attention around me. I was concentrating on getting through the door. That’s why I didn’t see him. I don’t know if he was watching her or not, but we ran into each other. Actually, it was probably me who ran into him — I don’t know. When we hit, he caught hold of me to keep me from falling.” Her throat tightened. “I — it — he frightened me.”

“Miss Williams. Miss Williams. Laken,” he prompted her, bringing her attention back to him.

“Yes, sorry.”

“What frightened you?”

“The cold hatred I felt.”

“You felt?” he urged softly.

“Yes, when he touched my brow.” She shivered, slipping back to the moment.

“He touched you?”

“Yes, he wiped his finger across my brow then licked it.”

“He licked your brow.” His glaze flickered to the side, and she noticed that Detective Jones had come up.

She shook her head as she looked back to Detective MacDaniels. “No, his finger.”

“Did he do anything else?”

Her heart thundered. “He said he had my taste now.”

The detectives exchanged looks.

“Did he say anything else?” Detective Jones spoke up.

“No, he went into the store.”

“You think the other woman was our victim?” Jones asked again.

“It was her,” she said firmly.

“All right,” MacDaniels said, trying to calm her. “Describe him.”

“I can’t, other then what I already gave you.”

“You looked right at him, he touched you, and you can’t describe him.”

She jerked at Jones’ remarks.

“It was dark and rainy. He had a large raincoat, the collar up, the hat pulled down. It was wide brimmed, kind of like the Indiana Jones type. All I could really see was his eyes. They were pale, that’s all I could tell.” She felt panic rise in her voice but couldn’t stop it.

“It’s all right,” MacDaniels soothed. “What happened next?”

“Nothing. I went home, took some medicine, went to bed. I didn’t know about the murder until I saw her picture in the paper.”

****

Mac felt his stomach clench. She was holding something back, he knew it. But what and why, after she had come down to the precinct? She wanted to help — he sensed that too.

“What makes you think it was him?” Jones’ question scored a hit by the way she jerked.

“Because I know.” The stress level was high in her voice. She sounded desperate.

Mac hated to but knew he had to start the pressure. He went in with a different tactic. “I understand he frightened you, Miss Williams, but that is no reason to believe he killed her.”

“But he did it.”

“What else did you see, Laken?” he pressed.

“Nothing.”

“Then why do you sound so certain?” He shot the question at her, keeping his tone sharp.

“Because I am.”

“There is no way that’s all. We couldn’t even arrest him on what you gave us.” His voice went cold, flat.

“I gave you all I can.”

The pleading in her eyes cut into him. He felt it like he’d never felt anything before. “No, you didn’t,” Mac countered. “What aren’t you telling us? What did you see?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you couldn’t know it was him.” He leaned forward, bearing down on her.

“Yes, I do. He hunted her down, and when he caught her, he pulled her up, and looked down into her eyes and stabbed her in the back. Then he just let her drop to the ground and stepped on her,” she cried out.

He knew it. The exaltation coursed through him. He had a witness. The satisfaction faded at the look on her face as she realized what she said. Her face dropped into her hands. He reached for her. His hand hovered over hers, but he wasn’t sure what to do. “Laken, I need you to tell me everything you saw.”

Her shoulders dropped in defeat. “I didn’t see it.”

“Miss Williams, don’t lie. You said he stabbed her in the back. And he stepped on her. We only released that information to about dozen people associated with the case.” He let it hang there.

Jonesy picked up where he left off. “Miss Williams, it’s illegal to withhold information besides the fact that this person could kill again.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “He will kill again. I could feel it,” she murmured, raising her head, pleading filled her eyes. “I want to help. That’s why I’m here.”

Mac leaned forward. “Then why won’t you help us?

“I’m trying to, you just don’t understand.” Her shoulders dropped again. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re right. I don’t understand, so why won’t you tell me?”

She shook her head in defeat.

“You can back up to the pharmacy and go over it again. That was all correct?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“The description?” he questioned.

“That’s all there is. Everything I remember.”

“All right, after you left. What then?”

“I went home to bed just like I said. I’d been overworking. I was very sick. I was burning up.”

“Then how did you know she was stabbed in the back while facing him, and how can you say he’ll kill again?”

“Because I saw it in a dream.” Her outcry did nothing to soften the blow of her words.

Mac figured the same doubt that shadowed Jonesy’s face settled over his. The woman looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole.

“You’re saying you’re psychic?” Detective Jones’ voice was laced with skepticism.

“No,” Laken denied, looking from one to the other. “No, nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I keep hoping I’m wrong but I know I’m not. I saw the look of fear on her face the moment before he thrust the knife in her. I felt his thrill of invincibility as he took her life. There was no remorse, only pleasure, deep gratifying pleasure. He killed her, and he will kill again.”

Mac felt his thrill of having a witness slipping away, but there was another sense of loss that went far deeper. For the first time in a long time, he’d felt a rush of interest, and the woman was mental. He wanted to honestly give her the benefit of the doubt and concede the possibility. But unfortunately, his limited experience with psychics had taught him they were total frauds — people wanting fame, to feel important or different, some just preying on others’ pain.

He ached with the disappointment this woman would fit into one of those categories. Shoving his exasperation down, he rocked back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair, trying to regain his composure.