Where Evil Waits (16 page)

L
UKE MOVED FROM THE
table and a hot poker of pain jammed into his thigh bone. He winced. He wasn’t up to leaping off decks and sprinting through forests.

“Bring your wine,” he said to Kara, though he noticed that she’d drunk most of the glass during his conversation with Burke and Beckett, on a completely empty stomach. He shouldn’t have done that to her.

“Take your hand off me,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Later. People are watching. It would be unlike me to have a beautiful woman at my side and
not
have my hands on her.”

They walked out of the bar area and the moment they were out of earshot, she pulled from his grasp. “Who’s Collado?” she asked.

Luke weighed his words. “He was a lieutenant for Manuel Rojàs who slipped through the cracks when the Feds and Colombian National Police busted up the cartel. He’s the heir apparent for the new Atlanta ring.”

“So, you work for him?”

“I like to think of us more as equals.”

“But you’re worried an investigation into my family would be enough to spook him, so you tell your goons to put the word out that my death is the result of a crazed wife. Thanks a lot. Never mind my reputation.”

He looked down at her. In another world or another galaxy, Luke would find her chutzpah an infinite source of admiration and pleasure. In this one, he didn’t dare encourage it.

“I don’t give a damn about your reputation, Counselor,” he said, piloting her back past the lounge and to the elevator. “I only care that Collado shows up with the shipment.”

“If you’re partners, why not just call him and tell him not to worry?”

A muscle ticked in Luke’s jaw. “ ‘Partners’ would be too strong a word for our relationship.”

She stopped, pulling her arm from his hand. “Holy shit. You’re not in league with Collado.” She paused, it sinking in. “You’re trying to take over the cartel yourself.”

Close enough. “You make it sound rather pedestrian. I assure you, it’s no small feat.”

She stared, her mouth unhinging, and Luke bit back a pang of sheer animal lust. He laid a finger beneath her chin and nudged her lips closed. “You’re distracting me.”

She snapped away and Luke gave himself a mental shake. Christ, he wished he was kidding, but he wasn’t. She
was
distracting him. He’d just about flattened Keith Burke back there for the way he’d ogled her.

The porter arrived with an electronic key and slid it into the slot. The elevator doors opened.

“Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Varón,” he said, and stepped back while Luke and Kara entered. She’d gone stiff as a board again. Processing the depth of his evil, no doubt.

They stepped out on the third story and Luke’s nostrils twitched at the aroma of grilled pork and spices. The soft strains of classical violins played through tiny speakers in the ceiling. A couple dozen patrons speckled the room—mostly men—and he skimmed them, searching for someone who might know Kara. There was only one.

Luke took a deep breath. Baptism by fire, Kara. It would be a good test of her disguise.

On the way to their table, Luke searched the restaurant for Lacy. She sat alone at the far end of a carved mahogany bar across the back of the dining room.

“Right here, sir?” asked the host. Luke didn’t recognize him.

“I think we’d rather be over there,” he said, indicating the corner farthest from Lacy.

“This way.”

A waitress hovered before they’d even settled into their seats. “Good evening. Welcome to Grayscale. Could I freshen your drinks?”

“I’ll switch to gin and tonic,” Luke said, handing off his beer bottle. “The lady’s finished drinking. Just bring water with lime for both of us.”

Kara opened her mouth and Luke raised a brow. Back to subservience, he warned her with his eyes.

The waitress left and Kara leaned forward on her forearms. Her breasts brushed the edge of the table on either side of the sparkling brooch on her dress. “Am I allowed to have a voice now?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, not bothering to suppress a smile. “I sort of enjoy watching you bite your tongue. I’ll wager you haven’t had much practice at it.”

“What are we doing here? Besides spreading rumors that I’m a crazed killer.”

“First, we’re eating. If you don’t get something in your stomach I’m going to have a lot more to worry about than your tongue. You’re surly when you’re hungry. I thought you might just kick Burke in the groin a few minutes ago.”

“I didn’t like the way he looked at me.”

Luke didn’t, either. “Don’t worry. He understands the hierarchy. He knows I get the first turn.”

She sneered, but Luke thought there was a small dose of fear in the mix. He shifted. For some reason he wasn’t wont to analyze, having her afraid of him didn’t hold much appeal.

Still, it was better that way.

The waitress came back with drinks and fresh rolls. “Duck or pork?” Luke asked Kara.

“Duck,” she said, and Luke held up two fingers to the waitress.

“Yes, sir,” she said, and hurried away.

Luke unfolded a napkin from the rolls, and the aroma of yeast spiraled into the air. A memory hit him—eating
brötchen
at Engel’s in Hopewell, Ohio. His brief visit home last year had reacquainted him with a girl he’d known in high school, Leni Engel, as well as bringing him back into the orbit of his brother, mother, and niece after too many years of distance. Just a few days there and it seemed now that every little thing was a reminder of home. He told himself he’d gone there to warn Nick that the woman he was falling for had a history. But in moments of complete honesty, Luke could admit he’d actually gone to Hopewell to heal. Rojàs was dead and Luke’s work with the cartel—after more than a decade in South America and five months in what passed for jail in those circles—was finished. He’d needed a touchstone to his past.

He’d gotten it, but soon after, he’d learned that Collado was targeting Atlanta. That was all it had taken to pull Luke right back into the underworld.

“Eat,” he said to Kara, diving in to the bread himself. “You need it.”

She chewed through half a roll then looked at him. “Do they know?” she asked, and Luke raised his brows. “The men downstairs. Do they know you’re planning to take over Collado’s interest? Or do they actually believe you’re working on his behalf?”

Luke smiled. “TMI, Counselor. I’d hate to save you from a killer only for you to wind up with cement shoes at the bottom of a lake.”

She blanched and a stab of guilt got him.

“Relax,” he said. “I just thought it would fit your image of me, that’s all.”

“And yet, you make a valid point. Why would you let me walk away when this is all over, knowing what I know about you?”

Luke hardened his gaze. “Because you won’t become a threat to me. You know that if you do, I’ll find you. And Aidan.”

She peered at him, and for the first time, Luke wasn’t one hundred percent sure she bought it. But his cell phone ended the conversation. It was a text from Knutson:
Call me now.

Luke’s hackles lifted. “Excuse me. I need to take care of this.”

He stepped away, threading between tables to a place where he was out of the way but could still see Kara. He dialed Knutson.

“Is it Aidan?” Luke asked, surprised at the true fear in his bones.

“Aidan’s fine. It’s Penny Wolff. We found her. She was in a cornfield in Mississippi.”

Ah, Christ
.

“Just outside a town called Como, along I-fifty-five. Been there a while. The killer probably drove there Tuesday night right after Kara left Penny’s house. There are tire tracks by the body, but the farmer goes in and out of there a lot, too, so they won’t all belong to the unsub. And the lab’s working on the photo of Penny Wolff. They’ve identified the wheel she was leaning against as belonging to an older model white van.”

“Cause of death?”

“Strangulation by barbed wire. Just like the picture suggested.”

Luke ran his hand over his head. It wasn’t as if that was unexpected, but confirmation made it that much more real.

“Listen,” Knutson said. “We’re keeping a lid on the barbed wire—just reporting that she was strangled—but Wolff’s name leaked in Mississippi. She’s being connected to the Chandlers’ disappearance.”

Good. That would lend credibility to the rumor Luke had just started. Keep it personal rather than a cartel issue that might raise Collado’s guard.

Unless the barbed wire thing got out. Luke couldn’t quite imagine anyone believing Kara capable of that.

“There’s more, Luke. I can’t find any murders on file done by barbed wire, so we scoured through missing persons in the southeast for the past year. Nine months ago, a woman in Charlotte, North Carolina, disappeared while out walking her dog. Her name was Evelyn Camp.”

The hairs on the back of Luke’s neck rippled.

“She was sixty years old and supposedly was wearing
a pearl necklace. It was gone, but they found two pearls at the scene. It’ll take time to get lab confirmation that they came from the same necklace Kara Chandler received, but I’m betting on it. I sent a courier with the necklace. We’ll know by morning.”

Luke clenched his fists. They didn’t have to wait until morning: They knew now.

Knutson went on. “We know Andrew Chandler, Elisa Moran, Louie Guilford, and Penny Wolff were all tied to Kara, and indirectly, to the drug ring. But this Evelyn Camp is different. There’s no connection, Luke. I mean
none
.”

“Send me a picture. Kara must know her. Somehow.”

“We also brought in a guy named Jay Kemp. He’s the one Kara called after you first refused to help her. He says he knows nothin’ about nothin’ but I’d like to be sure of that.”

“I’ll ask.”

“Do that. But mostly, find out who Evelyn Camp is. Was. The thing is, if Kara doesn’t know her, then chances are good all the trophies she’s been receiving are from total strangers. This may not have anything to do with Chandler and the cartel.”

“Then what’s it about?” Luke asked.

“Not money, not drugs, not power. Like I said, it’s some asshole with his dick in his hands dreaming about Kara, that’s what. Neither one of us knows what to do with that.”

“So find someone who does. Bring in the BAU, someone who knows psycho-killers.”

“Already done. He’ll be here by morning.”

A
FTER
S
ASHA LEFT THE
fire and the cops and the
FBI
behind, he drove in wide detours for a couple hours to be sure he wasn’t being followed. Finally, he turned back toward the stable. Christ, what a mess. Megan had been dead since early this morning. He’d intended only to sleep for a little while before getting her buried and putting her stall together, but then he’d turned on the television and discovered Kara was dead.

Or rather, alive.

What a day.

And it wasn’t over yet. The delay of tracking down Kara had turned a relatively easy task into something summarily unpleasant. Between the normal odors associated with death and whatever chemical breakdown had started on Megan’s internal organs since this morning, the girl stank. Gravity had pulled her blood to the lowest points, turning her flesh blotchy and purple; she was swollen and stiff with rigor mortis and her eyes, mouth, and nostrils were crawling with flies.

Sasha cringed. All Kara’s fault. Her and her fucking FBI bodyguard. Good thing Sasha hadn’t gone to the
nursing home this morning to bring his father here. He usually enjoyed bringing Dmitri to the stable, propping him up in his wheelchair for a firsthand view of the progress. He liked to review all he had done and watch the helpless, gape-mouthed horror in his father’s eyes. He reveled in the knowledge that despite what the nurses believed, Dmitri Rodin
did
understand. He understood why his only son had tracked him down during his first week out of prison, grabbed his thick gloves and a nearby length of barbed wire, and nearly choked the life from his body. He understood why Sasha had money to burn and why he’d spent the past year and a good portion of that money reconstructing an exact replica of the Montgomerys’ personal stable. He understood why Sasha kept bodies here rather than horses.

And his horror when Sasha put someone in a stall was one of Sasha’s greatest joys.

But this time, he was glad Dmitri wasn’t here. He didn’t want his father to know the trouble Kara had caused today. He would have smirked. Others may not believe Dmitri could feel such a thing, let alone show it, but Sasha would
know
.

So leave him there in the fucking nursing home tonight. Get Megan in the ground. Kara’s actions today had made the work harder, but in the end, they really hadn’t changed anything. Nothing would prevent tomorrow from coming and nothing would prevent him from getting Kara to the stable. All he had to do was show her that it was ready.

So move, finish up.

Kara’s truth awaited.

Luke disconnected from Knutson and the weight of the world settled on his shoulders. A serial killer, with some
twisted plan for Kara. And for the moment, Luke was all that stood between them.

He closed his eyes. He’d always known the work he did was important. He’d always felt that by helping cripple a lethal organization, he was saving lives. Kids, professionals, even cops—no group of people was immune to the lure of drugs, and the Rojàs cartel—now Collado—was responsible for God-only-knows how many lives destroyed or lost.

Still, the drug war was fought at a distance, through layers of personnel and over the course of months or even years. Kara’s battle was immediate. It was personal. It was about being her champion.

He forced that from his mind and came back to the table. Penny Wolff had been found and Evelyn Camp was almost certainly the owner of the pearl necklace. He had to talk to Kara about both of them, along with Jay Kemp, and he had to do it without sounding like a cop.

The guise wore on him.

He sat down across from her. “They found Penny Wolff’s body,” he said without preamble. “It’s on the news. She was found in a cornfield in Mississippi.”

Kara stared. Tears came to her eyes. “It’s because I went to see her.”

“It’s because some freak is out there killing people, damn it. You aren’t responsible for that.” He sat back, reining in his emotions, trying to ignore the sheen of despair in her eyes. “Who is Jay Kemp?”

She blinked.

“I put one of my men on you after you left me in the alley. He picked up the phone after you dumped it.”

She sighed. “He’s a bouncer at a strip club,” she said. “He’s acted as an informant for me now and then.”

“How much did you tell him?”

“Nothing. Just that I wanted to meet with him and had a job that would pay well. Why?”

“Because when he hears news of your death,” Luke lied, “he’s likely to come forward to police and tell them he’d just heard from you.”

“He won’t. The last time he served time was for arson by explosives. He won’t want police to know he was anywhere near me.”

“Okay.” She was probably right. The Bureau had already taken over the investigation into the explosion and the search for the Chandlers’ bodies—likely making the APD mad as hell—and reported that portions of remains had been found. Those remains wouldn’t be enough to determine a cause of death, though, so for a few days, there would be speculation of murder, suicide, accident. Jay Kemp would be a fool to step up to that.

Of course, none of that had fooled the killer. Not even for a moment.

Luke leaned across the table. “How did the killer get your phone?”

Kara frowned, and Luke realized he’d changed trains of thought without her. “The tracking system. It’s an easy thing to activate but he would have needed to have your phone in hand to get it going. Same with Aidan’s. Once it was installed, unless you deliberately disabled the location services, it could operate without your ever knowing it.”

She shook her head, looking pale and vulnerable and scared. “You’re asking if my phone was ever out on my desk, or sitting in my purse, or left on a table. Or if Aidan ever lost track of his or shared his password. I can’t even count how many times Aidan has misplaced his; he’s
a teenager. And mine? I left it at a neighborhood picnic once. I went back later and someone had found it. There was another time I took it to be repaired and left it at the store overnight. God, it could be anyone.”

She was right, but Luke didn’t want to point that out. She was scared enough as it was. Then she looked at him.

“How would you do it?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You figured out how John Wolff’s blackmail happened because you said it’s what you would have done. If you wanted to activate a tracking system on a woman’s phone, how would you do it?”

Luke tilted his head. “I’d flash a hundred-dollar bill and pay some kid to swipe it. If I needed a reason, I’d tell him—or her—it was because I wanted to surprise you with a message or new app.” He paused, leaning back to allow the waitress to place their plates in front of them. He saw Kara glance appreciatively at the food: seared duck on a bed of puréed sweet potatoes with goat cheese, and the blueberry compote. Luke liked to cook. Had the fleeting thought that he would like to be the one to make a gourmet meal for her and put that hungry look on her face.

But he’d have to keep her alive first.

“The app we found on your phone was first activated on Memorial Day of last year,” he said. “Any opportunity surrounding that date that you can remember?”

“Memorial Day?” Her cheeks went white. “Dear God, he’s been watching me for over a year.”

“But he’s not anymore,” Luke said emphatically. “I’m watching you now.”

He wasn’t one hundred percent sure there was any consolation in that assertion, but he liked to think so. There might have been a hint of relief in her posture.

“We hosted a Memorial Day party last year,” she said. “There were over a hundred people there.”

Jesus. That was probably it. “Anyone who might have a personal vendetta against you?”

“The people who come to parties are
friends.
You were better off when you asked about people I’ve put in jail.”

“But those people would have a harder time getting their hands on your phone for a few minutes than someone you socialize with. What about hired help for the party? Caterers, housekeepers, gardeners?”

She thought about it. “I don’t know. The people who
worked
the party
weren’t
friends, I guess. I didn’t know any of them.”

She frowned at her own words. Luke tipped his head. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing, really. It’s just that I never wanted housekeepers or cooks or gardeners. It was one of the things Andrew and I argued over. We both grew up with a staff of people all around. We didn’t know them; they were just
there
. I never liked it.”

“So, you don’t have a housekeeper? A gardener?”

“No. I take care of my own house, and yes, I’m the meanest mom around: I make Aidan mow the lawn and do laundry. But for the party, Andrew did hire help. Everything you just said: caterer, cleaning help, florist. There was a DJ and a crew that set up a tent and tables and chairs…” She set down her fork and looked at Luke over their plates. “It could have been anyone.”

“Not anyone. We know it’s a man. We know he has a personal vendetta against you, so it’s someone you’ve had contact with. We know he has money and a lot of free time.”

“How do we know that?” she asked.

“It takes time to have watched you for long periods, to
figure out how to get to your phone and scout someone to do it. Same with Wolff. Stealing that particular car to kill Andrew wasn’t just dumb luck. The killer picked a man who had a sick baby daughter, a malleable wife, and a schedule that provided no alibi. My bet is that he took a long time searching out the perfect fall guy.”

“Because that’s what you would have done?”

“Common sense, not rocket science. He threw ten thousand dollars in cash at John Wolff, and if Elisa Moran had pulled through, he would have had to be ready to keep paying Penny for her silence. Not to mention whatever it cost to incite a riot inside the prison.”

“He had to have help with that. We have to find out who. We need access to the police, damn it, but I can’t risk bringing anyone else into this.”

Luke couldn’t help a wry smile. “I guess I’m expendable.”

She jumped him. “You chose to put yourself in the middle of this. You broke into my house and demanded to know
why
I wanted to disappear and then kidnapped me and my son. You’ve made it eminently clear that you have as big a stake in finding Andrew’s killer as I do. So don’t you dare blame me for the fact that you—”

“You’re sexy when you’re angry; do you know that?” he asked. He had to put an end to her misery. It was too tempting to console her. “I came to that conclusion at the first deposition you conducted for my murder case, and you proved it again when you gave me hell in that alley.
Hot.
” He leaned toward her over the table. “And now, you’re even a brunette.”

The fire in her eyes turned arctic. “Save it for some blushing virgin, Mr. Varón, or for one of the women who works here. I’m not impressed.”

“Ouch,” he said, and couldn’t remember the last time
he’d wanted to kiss a woman so badly. Against every sane warning, he gave in to an impulse. “How long has it been for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You were married in name only. So, how long has it been since a man made love to you the way a man should?”

“Not long enough.”

Luke’s heart sprang a leak. He wouldn’t mind being the one to erase whatever bad memories she had of Andrew. Wouldn’t mind that one bit.

“Can we get back to the point, please?” she asked. “A prison guard. Maybe someone on staff at the prison made a big deposit to a bank account, or bought a new car or took a vacation. Something like that.” She tossed down her napkin. “Damn it, we need the police. They have no idea about the boxes I received or the text messages or even the fact that John Wolff was innocent. They don’t know that Louie’s death is related to Penny’s. They need to know what I do.”

“So call someone. You have friends in the APD. Oh, wait. There’s one fewer now.”

She blanched, and Luke felt cruel. But he needed for her to remember that she didn’t dare come out of hiding. He needed her to confide only in him.

“Kara,” he said, and just about lost his breath when she looked up. The commanding prosecutor was gone. A wounded woman looked back at him. She was alone and scared and vulnerable.

She was fucking beautiful.

“I’m not the police and I’m not your friend,” Luke said. “You’ve made it rather clear you don’t want me as your lover, though I haven’t given up on that one yet. But you
have to trust me. I’ll find him. I can do things the police can’t.”

She peered at him. “Using those two gorillas downstairs?”

“Careful. Gorillas are sensitive creatures.”

“Then why aren’t they up here, talking to us about the case, getting the details?”

“Knutson will give them the details. Besides, they aren’t allowed up here. This floor is restricted. You have to be sponsored by one of the elite to have the privilege of eating Grayson’s duck. Which I notice you’ve quit doing. Finish up. You need the strength.”

She looked flabbergasted. “Sponsored? You’re a known drug cartel henchman who was charged with murder. Who the hell would sponsor you to a place like this?”