A Killer Among Us (21 page)

The fifteen-minute drive to her parents' house went by fast. She had only a few minutes to ponder the case and was still coming up empty when she pulled into the drive.

Samantha showed up right behind her.

Kit got out of the car and smiled. “Hey there.”

“Hey. Andy's asleep. Wonder how long he'll stay that way?”

Laughing, Kit peeked over her sister's shoulder and looked down at the peaceful tot. “He's so cute.”

“Yeah, well, he wasn't so cute this morning at two o'clock.”

“I thought he was sleeping through the night now.”

“Most nights. Something woke him up last night and it took forever to get him back to sleep.”

“Then maybe you need to take a little nap while you've got some babysitters around today.”

Sam grinned. “I might just take you up on that.” Reaching in, she grasped the baby carrier and, with a grunt, pulled it gently from the base. “I thought I had pretty strong arms until I had to lug one of these around on a regular basis.”

“Hey,” Jamie called from the porch, “you guys going to stand in the drive and talk all day or come eat some of Mom's famous chicken casserole and corn bread?”

Kit's stomach sent up its vote in a very vocal way. Sam raised a brow and they burst into laughter. “Coming!”

Inside the house, Kit breathed in the scent of roasting chicken, vegetables, and corn bread. Her stomach growled again and she couldn't wait to dig in.

A pang grabbed her heart and she thought about her mom. She really should call and check on her.

But not from here. That would be like rubbing her face in the fact that Kit was here—with her birth mother—while her adoptive mother was in the hospital with only her friend to rely on.

She felt her throat clog and cleared it with an effort.

Andy still snored gently in his carrier, so Sam set him in front of the fireplace.

Jamie walked over and stared down at him, then whispered a sigh. “He's beautiful, Sam.”

An amused smile curled her sister's lips. “You say that every time you see him.”

“I know. I guess I'm just amazed that you could produce something that adorable.”

Kit laughed as Sam tossed a pillow at her younger sibling. Then her birth mother entered the room wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Hello, girls.” Tears came to her eyes as they often did when she saw all three of them together. But she blinked them away and motioned them into the kitchen. “Let's eat before we're out of time and Sam has to eat while holding a baby.” She took a deep breath. “Charles had a golf game set up so he left about thirty minutes ago.” She hugged Kit as they walked inside. “Then I want to show you something, Kit.”

Kit lifted a brow. “All right.” Curiosity ate at her, but she sat at the table, dished up her food, and after waiting for someone to say the blessing, dug in.

“You're a wonderful cook . . .” She trailed off, still not able to call the woman “Mom” but unable to call her Mrs. Cash either. So she just didn't call her anything.

Sam and Jamie exchanged a look. “All right,” Samantha spoke up. “We need to figure out how you're going to address Mom.”

Kit felt the heat of embarrassment crawl up her neck. “I'm sorry.” She bit her lip and studied the table. “I didn't mean for this to be awkward even though I knew it would. I just . . .” A sigh broke from her and she felt her throat clog with tears she hadn't realized were so close to the surface.

“Now don't you worry about a thing.” Her mother bustled around the table to lay a comforting hand on Kit's shoulder. “I have to admit, I wasn't too sure about you when you first appeared on my doorstep, but Faith Kenyon has been my best friend for a long time.” Tears flooded her eyes. “I knew she'd do a good job with you and she did. That's the only reason I let her have you. But I'm so glad you're back in our lives and we want you to be comfortable.”

“That's right.” Jamie reached over the table to grasp Kit's fingers and gave them a squeeze.

Taking a deep breath, Kit pushed aside her too-close-to-the-surface emotions and said, “Okay. So,” she looked at the woman who'd birthed her, “what do I call you? I can't bring myself to call you ‘Mom,' but ‘Mother' seems so . . . not you.”

Samantha laughed. “No, she's definitely not ‘Mother.' ”

“Well, the boys call me ‘Ma.' Would that work for you?”

Kit tried it out. “Ma.” She smiled. “Sure, that works.”

“Great, I'm glad we got that settled. Now, if you girls are finished eating, I want to show Kit something.”

They put their dishes in the sink and headed for the den. “Ma” pulled a key from her skirt pocket. Unlocking the side drawer of a trunk with the key, she lifted a book from it and held it to her chest. Next, she pulled another book from the shelf and carried both of them over to the couch.

Little Andy stirred at their entrance and opened his blue eyes. He blinked and hollered for attention. Kit went to him and unbuckled his carrier.

She lifted him out and held him to her shoulder, patting his small back. He quieted and reared back to look her in the eye. When he grinned, her heart sputtered and she placed a light kiss on his button nose.

Sam had the baby bottle ready by the time Kit sat on the couch. She took the bottle from her sister and laughed when his little hands snagged it and pulled it into his mouth.

Ma looked on with a smile and a few more tears before she sat in the chair next to the couch. She opened one of the books, and Kit saw that it was a picture album. Ma said, “Okay, this is an album of when Jamie was a child. From birth to around ten years or so. Sam has one too.”

Eager to see, Kit shifted and Andy grunted his displeasure. Sam reached over and took her son, smoothly transferring him to her arms without Andy ever losing the bottle in his mouth.

Then Ma opened the book she'd taken from the locked drawer, and Kit gasped as she stared at the first picture. “That's me!”

The woman nodded. “Faith would send me pictures about every three months or so. They were the only reason I was able to leave you where you were and not come get you. I think she knew this. And as long as she never heard from me, she was secure that she wasn't going to lose you. So she kept the pictures coming.”

“And you made me an album too.”

“Yes.” Ma smiled a sad, nostalgic smile and traced Kit's face on the picture. “It was hard. So very hard, but I knew you were loved. And it was obvious that Faith and your father doted on you. I couldn't interrupt your life at that point.”

Kit looked at the other album, the one with pictures of Jamie and Samantha together. The one of each of them separate. She belonged in that album. The three of them.

Or did she?

That was the real question. Where exactly was her place? Where did she belong?

Her fingers traced her sisters' younger images, and she didn't know whether to feel grateful or hurt. Or guilty for feeling like she missed out on something growing up. Ma was right.

She
had
been a spoiled child.

Spoiled rotten.

Her parents had given her everything her heart had desired.

Except a sibling.

Except crazy large family gatherings with relatives stretching the house's seams.

But other people had grown up just like she had and never had a problem with it. Or felt like they were missing out on something. Or if they did, they didn't have trouble accepting it.

But other people didn't find out they had a whole other family out there, either.

“Kit? Are you all right?” Sam looked at her with concern.

She blinked and forced a smile. “Sure, I'm fine.” Kit scooted closer for a better view of the album and breathed in the scent she'd come to associate with this woman who'd given birth to her. “This is incredible. You watched me grow up,” she whispered.

“I did. If I hadn't been able to, I might not have had the strength to leave you like I did.” She sighed. “When you were in high school, I drove up one weekend to watch you play soccer.”

Dumbstruck, Kit just stared at the woman. “You did?”

“Yes. You scored the first goal of the game. I stood with the crowd, watching as you passed on your way off the field. I patted your back, told you what a great game you played. You just flashed that smile and thanked me politely.” She gave a little chuckle. “Although I'm sure you were wondering who I was.”

“I . . . I'm sorry. I don't remember.”

Ma flashed her a sweet smile. “It's okay. I do.”

A knock on the door, followed by, “Ma? Sam? Are you in here?”

Sam's face lit up. “Connor? We're in the den.”

Heavy footsteps sounded on the wood floor and Connor stuck his head in. “Hey, is there anything left over?”

Ma set the album aside and got to her feet. “Of course. Is Dakota with you?”

“Yep, and Noah too.”

“Noah?”

Kit felt her stomach swoop at the sound of his name. He was here?

He stepped into the room and immediately locked eyes with her.

Oh yeah, he was here. In the flesh.

She smiled.

He smiled back.

Then she caught Jamie's eyes bouncing back and forth between her and Noah. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak when Noah's cell phone rang.

He looked at Ma and said, “Hi, Ma, they told me I could call you that. I'm Noah, Kit's partner. It's great to meet you, but I gotta take this call. Be back soon.”

Kit blinked when he left the room. Jamie opened her mouth and Kit shot her a glare. “Not a word.”

Jamie's mouth snapped shut, but her lips spread into a knowing grin. Sam's followed suit, and the guys just stared at them, brows raised in question.

Footsteps sounded again. Noah came back into the room, this time his face looking grim, his eyes dark. “Our serial killer has struck again. We'll have to eat later. We need to get over there.”

From his position across the street, the Judge watched them race to their cars. He supposed they'd found Corey's body by now. Didn't take them as long as he'd thought it might. He frowned. He'd been hoping for a little more time to observe his future wife. To his surprise, Kit had a twin. It had shocked him to see the two of them together. At first he couldn't tell them apart, but after watching through the window, he'd been able to spot their subtle differences.

Kit's dimple was in her right cheek. Her twin's was in the left.

And then there was Kit holding the baby, feeding him the bottle.

The Judge settled back into his little hiding place and felt satisfaction well up in him. Oh yes, Kit was perfect. She would be the perfect wife and mother.

And the little baby she'd been holding might just make him the perfect son.

In the parking lot of the grocery store, Noah leaned into the car and studied the killer's fourth victim. Through the opposite open door, Serena worked over him, shaking her head. “Whoever is doing this is a real sicko.” She bagged something, then gestured to the dead man. “He was a marine. Check out the tat.”

“Semper Fi,” Kit muttered under her breath.

Noah rubbed his chin. “Yep. I can't believe our killer got the drop on a marine.”

“The only way I can think of is that our victim knew him. Possibly trusted him. Had no idea the guy wanted to kill him. But how did he take him by surprise?” Kit voiced her questions hoping someone would have an answer.

“It's possible he drugged him somehow,” Serena said. “I'll have a tox screen done and get back to you on that.”

Noah looked at the ME. “This is probably a dumb question, but what's the cause of death?”

“Single gunshot wound to the back of the head.”

“Like I said, probably a dumb question.”

Kit stepped up beside them. “Sicko is right. He cut off his lips. What the heck does that mean? What possible reason would someone have to cut off another person's lips?”

Olivia, the profiler with the FBI, narrowed her eyes. “I don't know, but I'm working on some thoughts.”

“Care to share?”

“I believe the killer is exacting his revenge. In his eyes, all of his victims have done something to him. Either hurt him physically or mentally. The lips thing, though? He may have said something the killer didn't like.”

“Seems like he would cut out his tongue instead of remove his lips.”

The ME shrugged. Olivia nodded. “I would think so too.”

Noah looked up. “So why is he coming after Kit?”

Olivia shrugged. “Could be she stumbled across him at some point and she caught his attention. From the things he said to Kit in the cemetery, I would say we're looking for a young man who's unmarried. He has this picture in his head of what a wife and mother should be. Most likely, his own mother ran off or died when he was a young boy. Now, he's looking for a replacement.”

“Kit?”

Olivia shoved her hair behind her ear and nodded. “She's met him. Talked to him. It's possible she would recognize him if she saw him, in spite of the fact that he had a mask on. He knows this and thrills to the fact that he can secretly watch her while he plans his next move.”

“I don't like it one bit.”

“I'm sorry I can't give you something to like. But this guy is twisted. While he thinks Kit is perfect at this point, if she does anything to distort that image, she's toast.”

“Great.”

The camera flashed as the crime scene photographer recorded the end of Corey's life. Noah felt the rage at this person slide through him and took a deep breath. He couldn't let it get the best of him or he would lose his ability to focus, think, reason.

“Who is our dead guy anyway? Another law student?”

Serena shook her head. “I don't know. He had some ID on him, but no school badge.” She passed the wallet to Noah. “He's thirty-six years old. Military ID.”

Noah opened it and looked through the contents. “Has about three hundred dollars cash in here.”

“So we can rule out robbery as a motive,” Kit murmured.

Dakota reached for the wallet and Noah handed it to him.

“I'll get Jazz to run this and we'll find out all about him in a matter of minutes.” Dakota pulled out his phone and stepped away from the buzz of activity.

Footsteps crunched behind Noah and he turned to see Stephen Wells approaching. His sidekick, Edward Richmond, followed behind him.

Noah removed his latex gloves and held out a hand. “Stephen, Edward.” He still hadn't gotten the word from the captain about whether or not he wanted to be in on the questioning, so he kept his council—and his cool. The thing was, Olivia had just said the guy was probably unmarried. That would rule out the DA.

Or maybe the killer just didn't consider himself married.

Or just didn't care.

The man shook Noah's outstretched hand. Edward spoke up. “Another one?”

“Looks like it.”

“And we're not making any progress on catching this guy at all?” Stephen asked.

Noah blew out a breath. “You know the task force has just been developed. We're on this 24/7 now. It can't be that much longer before we'll have a suspect.”
Maybe sooner than you think
. He felt his jaw clench, then relaxed it by sheer force of will.

Stephen blew out a ragged breath and shook his head. Noah frowned. The man looked like he'd aged in the week all of this had been going on. His hair sported more gray and his face was more wrinkled.

Stress stamped its mark in the corners of his eyes and mouth. Did it have to do with a dead girl named Bonnie Gray? He wanted to ask that question in the worst way.

“I need this person found yesterday.” He looked Noah in the eye. “Bonnie Gray's mother died yesterday morning.”

Noah flinched. “I'm so sorry.”

“Bonnie's father is my best friend. He's beyond grief. His life has fallen apart and I can't put the man responsible in jail.” Intensity shook him. “I need to put this person away, Noah, and I need to do it now.”

“I know that, sir. We all feel the same way. I assure you nothing more could be done than what's being done.” Irritation flashed.

Regret flickered in Stephen's eyes. “I know. I just . . .”

Noah sighed and he laid a hand on the DA's arm to lead him away from the scene. Edward followed on the other side. “Look,” Noah said, “there's nothing you can do here. As soon as we have anything, I promise I'll let you know. I know this case is personal for you. It's become rather personal for us too.” In more ways than one.

Brows creased in concern, Stephen nodded. “I heard about the attempts on Kit's life. I'm glad everyone is all right.”

Are you really?
“My point is, this guy has come after us on three separate occasions.” No sense in mentioning two of those had probably been aimed at Noah. “It's personal. It's a priority. It's all we're eating, sleeping, drinking. We're going to get this guy.”

“Make sure it's soon, Noah. Soon.”

“That's the plan.”

Noah watched the DA and Edward walk back to the dark SUV and climb in. He shook his head. As much as he wanted to lay into the man, if he wasn't the killer, just a secret lover, then he understood where the man was coming from, and could feel some compassion for what he was going through. However, if it turned out the man killed her, killed all of them—or simply killed Bonnie to make it look like the person who killed Walter killed her . . .

And then there was the angle with Kit. Confusion swamped his tired brain and he had to struggle to shrug it off.

The photographer would take some pictures of those gathered around. And while sometimes the bad guy liked to hang around to watch the excitement, he wondered if the killer had just driven off in his SUV.

“Got the DA taken care of?” Kit asked as she scanned the crowd.

“Yeah. I have to say, it looks like the guy is hurting and I feel for him if he didn't have anything to do with Bonnie's death. But in my opinion, he needs to stay away from the crime scenes until we prove things one way or another.”

Dakota walked up. “Our dead guy throws a monkey wrench into things.”

“How so?” Kit frowned.

“He's not a student at the college. He's been working part- time as a mechanic at the Greenville-Spartanburg International Airport since he got back from Iraq last year.”

Noah blew out a sigh. “All right, now we need to find the connection between him and the other three victims.” He narrowed his eyes. “Because there is one. It may not be the law school after all. But there's a connection because the same guy who killed the first three, killed this one.”

“I don't go to the law school,” Kit muttered.

“What?”

“Think about it. We've been looking at this all wrong. We're trying to connect them through the school and maybe that's part of it. But I don't go to the school and he came after me. Granted, it wasn't to kill me after all, but . . .”

She paced between the cars, thinking, her head down, ponytail bouncing against her neck. Noah forced himself to focus on her words.

“He was telling me how perfect I was. How I would make the perfect mother and wife for him. And then my good Samaritan yelled and distracted him.”

Noah watched her, could almost see her brain turning. “Okay, hold on a second.” He darted to the car, grabbed a notepad and a pen. He had his small pocket notebook, but he needed something larger.

Back with Dakota, Connor, and Kit, he drew a grid, then started labeling. “I know we have all this back at the office, but let's just take a look here.” More lines, then he started filling in the blanks. “Okay, we've got our first victim. Time, place, method of death.”

“Walter Davis, early morning, dorm room, gunshot to the back of his head. Eye removed.”

“Right. Second victim. Bonnie Gray, her home, gunshot to the back of her head. Nose cut off.”

Kit leaned in. “Third victim. Susan Chalmers, on the side of the road, gunshot. Toes cut off.”

Connor looked over his shoulder. “Fourth victim, Corey Samples. Also a gunshot wound. Lips removed.”

“But he's not a student.” She bit her lip. “I wonder what he would have removed from me.”

Noah shuddered at the thought and forced that image from his mind. He said, “Let's talk to each victim's family and friends again and see if they know Corey. Even though he's not a student, maybe he's associated with the college in some way.”

Kit held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What's the guy's name again? Corey? And he was in the military?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Could be nothing, but I just wonder . . . I think I need to talk to my neighbor. I mean, there are a lot of guys out there named Corey, but—”

Noah groaned. “Great. Here come the news cameras.”

Alena's eyes went wide as she saw who was on the breaking news announcement. The next victim of the serial killer. Corey. “No,” she whispered to the television. “Please, no.”

She'd dated him only a few times, but had found herself really liking the guy. Had thought she might have finally met the one she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with—and now this.

Roscoe whined at her side and she absently reached down to stroke his soft ears.

“Oh Corey.”

Was Kit investigating his murder? Probably. She'd asked about Walter and he had been the first victim. Bolting to her feet, she looked at the clock. 6:06. Should she go over? Desperate for someone to talk to, she decided to see if Kit was home.

She and Roscoe walked the six feet separating her entrance from Kit's. Raising a shaking hand, she rapped on Kit's door. The porch light was on, but there wasn't any sign of life coming from inside. Kit's car wasn't in the driveway, but that didn't mean anything. Sometimes her partner dropped her off, then picked her up the next morning.

“Kit? Are you home?” The heat seemed to press in on her and she shivered even though the humidity had caused a fine sheen of sweat to break across her forehead the minute she'd stepped outside.

Even though the news hadn't shown a picture of Corey dead, Alena couldn't stop her imagination from picturing the worst. Nearly sobbing now, she went back to her side of the duplex and collapsed onto the couch. Roscoe hopped up beside her and lay his head on her thigh. She leaned over and buried her face in his fur and let the tears flow.