Casanova Killer (19 page)

“Who knew that playing the role of a socialite could be so exhausting? My face is in permanent smile mode, which really hurts my cheeks.” Jerry complained to Dylan when she made her afternoon report.

“Buck up princess, it could be worse. Be grateful that you’re not on this side of the fence, hearing Ethan swear every time Jonathan touches you.” Dylan chuckled and ducked Ethan’s attempt to punch him in the arm.

“Maybe they don’t need to follow us around with cameras.” Jerry offered, half-heartedly.

“You think he’d be any better if he
couldn’t
see what was happening?” Dylan laughed again. “Man’s got it bad, Jer.” This time Ethan’s punch landed on the mark.

Jerry smiled, glad that Dylan was finally coming around where Ethan was concerned. “He’s not the only one,” she admitted softly.

“You think that’s news to me? I saw the writing on the wall from day one. Anyway,” Dylan changed the subject, “you’re doing a great job with Jonathan; if I didn’t know better, I’d believe you were falling for the guy.”

“Thanks.” Jerry added wryly. “He’s certainly moving things along. We’re having dinner tonight in Sausalito, then he wants to take me to a Giant’s game tomorrow. Said he always wanted to experience American baseball.”

“Ethan and I may have to tail you on that one, it’s time for a change of agents anyway. Thanks to a scheduling snafu, we’ve had to use the same female agent two times in a row.”

“I noticed that, but they were discreet enough that I don’t think it was a problem. Jonathan’s attitude never changed, so I’m sure he didn’t notice.”

“Regardless, we’ll have a new pair on you tonight.”

“Good to know. If there’s nothing else, I have to get ready for dinner.” Jerry’s grimace read clearly through the phone.

“Nope, that’s it. I’ll call you if we get the psychiatric report before you leave.”

“Thanks.”

Jonathan/Elliott circled Jerry’s block to make certain that the car he thought was following him actually was. Sure enough, the dark blue Ford kept a discreet distance, but it stayed with him just the same.

He’d noticed the woman trailing behind them in the aquarium, thought she’d looked familiar. Thinking back, he remembered seeing the same woman in the art museum that morning, but with a different companion.

When had he picked up a tail? Who could be following him? He’d been so careful to change his appearance, change his vehicle so that no one could connect him to any of his activities since arriving in the states. He’d been careful not to leave evidence at the crime scenes, sure that the bodies’ exposure to the elements would remove any trace of him over time. Why were they following him; if they could connect him to his first four conquests, then why didn’t they just arrest him?

Perhaps it’s a trap, he thought. If they somehow connected him without enough evidence to arrest him, then it stands to reason that they would follow him to try and catch him in the act. Years of therapy taught him that being delusional wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. What’s the phrase, he thought, then said aloud, laughter edging his voice, “just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.”

Regardless of his mental health issues, someone was definitely following him; that much was clear. After circling the block again, he headed off in the direction of the Bay Bridge. Sure enough, the car stayed with him, even through rush hour traffic.

Certain that he was on the right track, he nabbed the first open parking spot he came across. Street parking was like gold in the city, so he felt confident that this maneuver would complicate his shadow’s ability to monitor him.

He needed time to think, to contemplate his next move. A busy coffee shop on a populated side street seemed the perfect place to formulate a plan. While waiting at the cross walk, he noted with satisfaction the dark blue Ford coming down the road again. They could circle the block for days, he thought, he could still elude them if he wanted.

Settled at a corner table with a drink and a biscotti, Jonathan began to compartmentalize the days past, moment by moment. His first concern was if the entity following him knew where he lived. Thinking back to this morning, he tried to visualize the blue Ford on the street outside the house or following him to collect Jerry. Nothing registered, but that didn’t mean the car had not been there.

Thinking of Jerry, could she possibly be in on the plan to capture him? Or was she simply an unwitting pawn for some government agency? She was so lovely, so perfect for him, he had trouble imagining her working in some bland, bureaucratic office.

No, he thought, she had to be an unsuspecting participant in their little capture plan. She would never betray him that way. Still, he had to make a decision whether or not to continue on his path, or to abandon the budding romance altogether.

Thoughts of leaving Jerry before their last adventure together made him physically ill. Just as she would not betray him, he would not betray her. They would have their special time together, he would simply be more careful.

First and foremost, he could not let the shadow know that he was onto them. He would go home, get ready for dinner and take Jerry out as planned. Tomorrow’s baseball game would be the perfect place to make the necessary alterations to his own game plan. Smiling, he tipped the waitress and strolled back to his car.

Chapter Eighteen

The shrill ringing of his cell phone brought Ethan out of a dreamless sleep. He’d only just drifted off, having spoken with Jerry for hours after her dinner with Jonathan.

“What?” He growled without looking at the screen.

“Barnes? It’s Jamison. You up?” The gravelly voice of his superior officer brought Ethan fully awake. The man never made contact unless there was trouble.

“I am now, sir. What’s happening?” Ethan flipped on the light switch, hoping to shatter the feeling of dread blossoming in his gut.

“You alone?” Jamison was a man of few words.

“Yes sir.”

“It’s the Anson brothers. They’ve escaped.”

“How the hell did that happen? They were locked up tight in the psychiatric ward at Portlaoise.”

“Long story. Suffice it to say that they’re out and they’re gunning for you.” Ethan heard the flick of a lighter as Jamison lit a cigar. “We need you back here, pronto.”

“But sir, we’re near the end of this case, I’d like to see it through.” Ethan’s mind reeled at the thought of leaving Jerry in the clutches of a madman.

“The Yanks can wrap that up, you’re going deep underground, protective custody, while we figure out where these lunatics will strike next.”

“All due respect, sir, do you really think they’ll track me to California in the next few days?”

“It’s a distinct possibility. They’ve been monitoring your activity for the past year. They know which case you’re working. We found pictures of you and that agent, Jerry Forbes, in their cell.”

“Jerry? They had pictures of Jerry? How?”

“We’re working on it. The only people we know that they’ve been in contact with are the prison guards and their psychiatric team. Obviously, there’s a mole.”

“Have they killed since the escape?”

“Two prison guards and a taxi driver, so far.”

“Dammit. If they left pictures, they want me to know I’m a target.”

“The pictures are not all they left behind. Before I tell you the rest, know that we’ve already placed your family under protective custody.”

“My family? How did they make the connection to my family?” Ethan’s voice boomed in the quiet hotel room.

“The tech department discovered a breach in security last week, but it appeared that no files were accessed. We now know that several personnel files were copied, including yours.”

Ethan’s mind raced. He knew he had to leave, but what could he tell Jerry that would keep her safe? The Ansons were the worst of the worst; he had to remove the target from Jerry
and
keep her from following him to Europe. Stubborn as she was, she’d insist on helping him recapture the twins, especially if she knew how much danger he’d be facing.

“I’ve heard enough. I’ll leave today.” Ethan’s voice was grim, knowing that the only way to keep Jerry safe was to break her heart, but he couldn’t do it alone.

Ethan sat in the nearly empty diner waiting for Dylan to show up. The weight of what he was about to ask of the man and the resulting destruction to his and Jerry’s relationship sat heavy on his shoulders.

“What in the hell is so important that it couldn’t wait a few hours? The sun’s not even up.” Dylan straggled into the diner, ready for a fight. Ethan’s phone call took him from a very nice dream, one of a blond-haired beauty and a sultry southern beach.

“I need your help.” Ethan slid a steaming cup of coffee towards him. “It’s for Jerry. Drink up.” He nodded towards the mug.

Dylan read the quiet desperation and something else on Ethan’s face; pain mixed with determination. Whatever had caused Slick to get him out of bed was serious. He sipped the coffee and waited.

“Two years ago I was instrumental in capturing the Anson brothers, twins who thrived on torturing, maiming and murdering random men and women in England, Ireland and Scotland.” Ethan began without preamble. “Their killing spree lasted for more than six months, primarily because we weren’t aware that they were twins; the only pattern we could detect was that there was no pattern. One day, a woman was raped and mutilated in the hills of Scotland, the same afternoon a teenage boy suffered the same fate in the heart of London. We knew the murders were connected, the M.O.’s were the same, but the distance and the time span for the torture of each victim made it impossible for one person to commit both crimes.” Ethan took a breath. “Also, video surveillance showed the same person, or so we thought, in both locations around the times of the murders. Instead of searching for twins, we focused the investigation on means of transportation between the two locations, which cost us valuable time.

During the course of their killing spree, two victims, each tortured and killed in the same way, always turned up on the same day, hundreds of miles apart.  The only time the brothers varied their M.O was toward the end of the spree when they came together to slaughter the family of the lead investigator on the case.” Ethan ran his hands over his eyes; images of the carnage would haunt him forever.

“Why are you telling me this? What does it have to do with Jerry?” Dylan prompted, shaking Ethan from the nightmarish memories.

Ethan ignored the questions and continued his spiel. “I took over the investigation at that point, the lead obviously could not continue. Long story short, we captured them not long afterward, and they vowed revenge on me as the head of the task force. As you know, a prisoner spouting off is nothing new, so I dismissed the threat, especially as they were sentenced to life in the psychiatric ward of Portlaoise.”

“That’s one of the most secure prisons in Europe.” Dylan nodded. “But why the psychiatric ward?”

“If you’d seen the butchery they left behind, especially when they slaughtered the officer’s family, you’d know that no sane person could do that to other humans, or animals, for that matter.” Ethan shuddered. “I’m giving you this background so you can understand why I need your help to keep Jerry safe. They’ve escaped. We don’t know how yet, but they were always very clever. Pictures of Jerry and me were found in their cell. Apparently, they’ve been tracking my movements for the past year. They also have information on my family, thanks to a hack job at Interpol.”

Dylan sat in silence, understanding of both Ethan’s need for help and the vision of a devastated Jerry dawning clear.

“You’re leaving.” He said simply.

“Today. I can’t tell Jerry why, or she’ll want to go with me. She can’t know the danger I’m in and she can’t follow me. She’ll be safer if it appears that I’ve cut all ties with her, that this was just an assignment and that she means nothing to me.” Ethan’s voice caught on his last words. Dylan pretended not to notice.

“So you want me to help you break her heart.” He stated, knowing it was the only way to keep Jerry from finding out the truth.

“Yes. If you can think of another way to keep her away from me until I catch those bastards again, I’d like to hear it.”

Dylan considered Ethan’s dilemma. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jerry would try to help him if she knew the truth. He trusted Ethan’s instincts and knowledge of the killers enough to trust that Jerry needed to stay far away in order not to be a target. Like Ethan, he could see no other way to protect her than to convince her that Ethan was a lying scumbag.

“What do you want me to do?” Dylan asked quietly.

“I’m afraid that if I simply disappear, she’ll suspect something is not right. I have to convince her that I’m a bastard. That’s where you come in.”

“I can get behind that.” Dylan smiled wryly, not at all happy with being complicit in lying to Jerry, even if it was for her own good.

“I thought you might. One thing, before we start. No one else can know about the ruse, not Nate, not anyone at all. There’s a leak somewhere and until we know who and where, this has to be just between us.”

“Agreed, but Nate is no leak.”

“I’m not saying that he is, but the fewer people who know the truth, the better.” Ethan waited for Dylan’s nod of agreement. “The first thing we have to do is get Jerry some proof that I’m a cheat.” Ethan cringed when he said the word, then continued. “Pictures of me with other women will work, I think, especially if they’re time-stamped within the past week.”

“Where do you propose we find these women? It’s still not even sunrise.”

“That works in our favor. We’ll start with Allison, our lovely waitress.” Ethan nodded in the direction of the bored-looking young woman wiping down the counter. “A few hundred dollars, a new dress, the right setting and voila, we’ve got a romantic date.”

“How many women are you thinking?”

“Three should do it. We’ll take photos with the other two this morning, at different places in the city. I’ll call an escort service for the other women, should make it quick and easy.”

“And I’m supposed to show her the pictures after you leave?” Dylan knew the idea was solid.

“Yes,
after
you wrap up Casanova. I do not want her distracted.” Ethan grabbed Dylan’s wrist in a vice-like grip. “I’m trusting you to keep her safe for the remainder of this assignment.”

Dylan read Ethan’s desperation and nodded. “I’ll make sure she comes out of this alive; you have my word.”

Ethan searched Dylan’s eyes before releasing his grip. “Thank you.”

Dylan nodded. “Are you walking away from her for good, or until you capture the Ansons?”

“One thing I know for sure is that Jerry is my soul mate. I’ll be back for her, if she’ll have me.” Ethan sat back, resigned to his immediate fate while refusing to give up on a future with Jerry. “You have to help convince her that I lied, that I was simply playing a role. I may also need your help in the future, when I try to get her back.”

“The only reason I’m doing this is because I know Jerry; if she has one inkling that you’re in danger, she’ll be on the next plane to find you. I’ll make sure she believes that you lied, but as for the future, I’m not making any promises. If, when you do return, I think that she’s better off without you, I won’t help you get near her.”

“If I think she’s better off without me, I won’t come back.” Ethan said quietly. “Get your camera; I’ll start working on the waitress.”