Cold Fear (32 page)

“DMV sent through a list but also noted you don’t need a license for a moped.”

Frazer grunted. “He travels frequently to the mainland, as there are easier victim pickings over there. He has a violent temper and holds a grudge, but he’s a damn good actor. He might be married with kids, or have a girlfriend. He was probably sexually abused as a child. Usually it’s by a dominant female but for some reason I’m thinking in this case possibly by a male.” Assuming his hunch that this unsub was a schoolmate of Ferris Denker’s. He wasn’t ready to share that theory yet. “I believe he takes shoes as trophies, but I’m not sure how far that piece of information will get us in catching him unless we actually find the guy with a cupboard full of shoes.”

Frazer lifted the box Mildred Houch had given him and dumped it on the table. He removed the stack he’d already rejected.

“What are these?” asked Randall.

“Photographs from Ferris Denker’s school—which happens to be the same place where the prostitute Elaine Patterson’s body was dumped. I’m trying to find any photographs from when Denker attended the school.” Mildred Houch had thankfully written the year on the back of most of the photos.

Randall picked up one that was obviously from a recent wedding, and he added it to the reject stack.

Frazer’s cell phone buzzed. Tyson. He answered it.

“Duncan Cromwell attacked Izzy Campbell when she went to pick up her SUV in Whalebone Junction. He was wearing a mask and dragged her into the marsh,” Tyson informed him. “He tried to kill her.”

Frazer felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart with a fist. “Is she all right?”

“Yeah. She’s alive anyway. Seth Grundy heard her scream and rescued her.”

Frazer’s lungs expanded, but he wasn’t sure he was breathing. “Where is she now?”

“She’s been taken to the hospital. Cromwell is in custody, being processed. I’ll see what I can get out of him before he lawyers up.”

“I’ll meet you there shortly.” Frazer sat there stunned. She’d only left his bed a few hours ago, for Christ’s sake. He hung up and released a long breath. “They caught Duncan Cromwell attacking Isadora Campbell.”

Randall’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Tyson didn’t say it, but he thinks Cromwell’s our guy.” Frazer grabbed his jacket. The idea a father would rape and murder his own daughter was repulsive, but it happened. And wait until the media got hold of that story. “I’m going to take Kit to the hospital, and I’ll meet you at the police station in an hour. I want you to start preparing items for a search warrant. Include photographs, diaries, computers, DVDs, and shoes.” He was dialing Parker as he walked out the door. “I need a detailed background check on Duncan Cromwell, Helena’s father, going all the way back to when and where he was born. Any overlap with Denker you can find, even if they only bought a candy bar from the same store thirty years ago.”

He hung up. Ran up the steps to the Campbell cottage and used the key he’d lifted a few nights ago to let himself in.

“Kit,” he shouted.

He heard a groan, and he strode farther into the living room, noticing Barney was gone and hoping to hell the dog was okay. “Isadora’s been hurt. She needs you.”

That brought some cursing followed by the sound of feet stumbling around the bedroom. She appeared seventy-seconds later, dressed, hairbrush in one hand, coat in the other. “Is she okay?”

He held her gaze. “Let’s go find out.”

*     *     *

I
ZZY LAY ON
the bed, staring at the ceiling, wanting to escape. They’d run chest X-rays and ruled out fractured ribs and pneumothorax. Liver, spleen, and kidney all looked good on the abdominal ultrasound, and her blood work—count, electrolytes, liver function, coagulation—had come back normal. They were insisting on a CT scan before they’d let her escape. Stupid. Except for her wrist, which had already been put in a small cast and X-rayed, she’d suffered more damage during hand-to-hand combat training—for all the good that had done her.

She couldn’t believe how easily he’d overpowered her. Dammit. Aside from her wrist, nothing was broken but she hurt. She stuffed down the pain and the pity party. She remembered soldiers who ended up on her table—shot, blown up, concussed from bomb blasts. So she’d taken a few blows and had a fright. It would remind her to pay more attention to her surroundings in the future.

She checked a mirror she’d asked one of the nurses to give her. Both her pupils looked normal, not blown, so no coning, which was beyond excellent news. Then she made herself remember the name of every commanding officer she’d ever served under, to prove her brain was as intact as it had been when she woke up that morning. She was pretty sure she wasn’t concussed. Basically, there was nothing wrong with her that strong narcotics wouldn’t fix—except the humiliation, which she’d learn to live with. But her fellow physicians were being overzealous with her care—hence the CT scan even though she had no abdominal pain and all the other tests had come back normal.

God knew what would have happened if Seth hadn’t turned up. She slid her legs over the edge of the bed, thinking escape might be a reasonable possibility. But the sound of footsteps down the corridor had her grimacing. She recognized Lincoln Frazer’s purposeful stride even after their short acquaintance.

Long enough to screw his brains out.

Damn.

She got back under the covers and winced as a sharp pain shot from her neck to the middle of her skull. Dammit.

Then Frazer came into view, looking as handsome as ever, even if his shirt was a little creased from her throwing it on the bathroom floor last night. She avoided his eyes and looked at Kit instead. Her sister’s pace was hurried, her face a vision of fear and uncertainty as she clung onto Frazer’s arm like he was a close confidante. Izzy raised her brow at him, and he shrugged as if to say he didn’t know how it had happened. That was Kit for you. She chose you, rather than you choosing her.

“Hey. There was no need to come down here. It’s not that bad,” she tried to reassure them, but Kit flew to her side and hugged her tightly. Izzy bit back a yelp and let her hold on. Her sister had already lost way too much in the last twelve months, she’d have been terrified at the idea of anything happening to Izzy, too. Her gaze locked on Frazer’s over Kit’s head, and she knew he could tell she was in pain.

Izzy hugged her sister tighter. She wanted to stroke the hair off Kit’s cheek. She’d obviously just climbed out of bed and rushed down here because there were still sleep marks creased into her face.

“Who did this?” Kit wailed, taking in the cut at the side of her mouth where Duncan had landed a punch.

Izzy had barely believed her eyes when she’d seen Duncan Cromwell lying there on the ground. “Helena’s dad.”

“What?” Kit jerked away.

Izzy squeezed her eyes shut as her ribs were jostled. Ouch. Being brave sucked. She wanted to burst into tears and be done with it.

“Did he kill Helena?”

“Shush.” Izzy glanced at the open door. “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

“Did he hurt you?” Kit’s eyes were huge, looking at her properly, taking in her hospital gown.

“Chief Tyson bagged all my clothes as evidence. I’d appreciate someone going to my locker and grabbing the spare set I keep there.” The sooner she got something to wear the sooner she could escape.

“As soon as the doctor releases you.” Frazer’s blue eyes pinned hers.

Dammit. How’d he know her so well, so fast?

Her sister bit her lip. Izzy caught her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Look, he beat the crap out of me, but he didn’t touch me sexually.” She kept her voice down, glad she was in a separate room a couple down from where Jesse was holed up. He was supposed to be going home today. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“Kit,” Frazer said suddenly. “Why don’t you go buy your sister a drink from the vendor stand? And get me a coffee while you’re at it, will you? Black. No sugar.” He handed her ten bucks and Kit gazed at him stupidly for a moment.

“Oh, you guys want to talk. Sure. Okay.” She looked between them nervously. “I’ll be back in five minutes. Be good.”

“Too late,” Frazer said under his breath as her sister ducked out of sight.

Izzy laughed, holding her side carefully. Frazer sat beside her on the bed, way too close. He eased the side of her hospital gown up and she felt ridiculously exposed, which was crazy considering he’d licked every inch of her body last night.

“It isn’t pretty,” she warned, rolling over enough to let him free the gown.

His hands stilled when he revealed a series of bruises. He indicated she roll over farther so he could see the rest of her back. She did, aware he could also see her bare butt, but she guessed that ship had sailed last night. But this was the hospital and fluorescents were not as kind as the gentle light of the moon.

“How bad was it?” His voice was cold and emotionless, but she heard the undercurrent of rage it concealed. Just because he controlled his emotions didn’t mean he didn’t feel them.

“Honestly?” She let out a noisy breath. “I thought I was going to die.” She turned back so she was facing him, but sat up straighter, wincing at the sharp pains that attacked her body, and grateful for each and every one of them. “What was so frustrating was I had my gun in my front pocket, but he held my arms so tight I couldn’t reach it, and then he started hitting me and calling me a whore.” A wave of remembered revulsion rushed over her skin.

“It’s okay, Isadora.” Frazer captured her hand and brought it to his lips.

“You need to start calling me Izzy, like everyone else.”

“You want me to treat you the same way everyone else treats you?” His blue eyes were so bright it hurt to stare into them, like looking directly at the sun.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. How ironic she couldn’t lie to the guy considering the huge fat secret she kept from him. “I think someone watched us in bed last night.”

“What makes you say that?” His gaze sharpened, switching from lover to FBI agent in a split second.

“Someone folded a blanket that I’d left on the floor, and from that part of the deck you can see straight into your bedroom. The drapes were open,” she reminded him.

“I remember.” The spark of heat in his eyes made her tingle. Then his lips pressed together. “Doesn’t mean anyone watched us. Agent Randall, or Kit could have folded the blanket?”

Izzy closed her eyes in horror. “I don’t know who would be worse, but I’m never making love with the curtains open again.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” His gaze was bold and direct. He was clearly expecting a repeat of the night before.

There was a funny little flutter beneath her breastbone.

“Why’d you sneak away?” he asked.

“I needed to get back to Kit.”

His eyes said he didn’t believe her.

“It was just sex, remember? I didn’t think you’d want the awkward morning-after scenario, especially with you bunking with another FBI agent.”

“Remember when I said I like you, Isadora Campbell? I meant it.” His eyes narrowed. “I would have liked to have woken up with you, but I understand your need to be with Kit.” He looked away for a brief moment and then back. “I’d like to see what might happen if we let this thing between us become a little more than just sex.”

Her heart beat violently and she felt sick. She’d screwed this up so badly. She’d love to have more with Lincoln Frazer. She’d give anything to go back seventeen years and tell the truth—or even a few days, to when Helena was killed. Now the ugly lies lay between them, and she didn’t think he was the sort of man to forgive that kind of blatant omission.

He mistook her silence for something else. “I’m sorry I didn’t follow up on the vandalism to your car yesterday. I didn’t even think about it.” He dragged his hand through his hair.

“You had more important things on your mind.” At his tortured expression she reached out and touched the back of his hand with her uninjured one. “It’s okay, Linc. I’m not one of your victims, don’t add me to that list.”

He blinked in surprise.

“I have them, too,” she explained. “The people we fail. The people we can’t save.”

Her boyfriend Shane had been the first. Her father the second, but she still didn’t know if he’d deserved to be saved or not.

She drew in a breath and opened her mouth to tell him what had really happened all those years ago and why they could never be together, but Kit came strolling into the room with a look of intense concentration as she tried not to spill the drinks.

“They provide lids, you know.”

Kit’s eyes flashed with hurt and Izzy immediately realized she’d said the wrong thing. Again. Damn. “Sorry.”

Frazer stood and took the cups from Kit. Put them on the side table. Then he leaned down, cupped the back of Izzy’s head, and kissed her straight on the mouth. Izzy resisted for a split-second and then ignored the shafts of pain to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him back, silently telling him all the things she didn’t have the nerve to say out loud. He pulled away, his blue eyes taking in her expression. “I’ll see you later, Dr. Campbell.”

Kit stood there, open-mouthed.

“Later.” It came out in a breathy whisper. Damn. What the hell was she going to do now?

Chapter Twenty

F
RAZER ARRIVED AT
the police station in a taxicab amid a swarm of media vans. He’d already requested the rental car company drop off another vehicle for him ASAP. He braved the scrum of reporters, fielding questions from some of the network people who recognized him.

“ASAC Frazer, what can you tell us about the rumor there’s a serial killer operating on the Outer Banks?”

“ASAC Frazer. Can you confirm that one of the bodies recovered here was that of a Ferris Denker victim?”

“Can you tell us who you’ve arrested?”

“Why are the BAU involved?”

The noise turned into a gray buzz that sawed at his ears.

“No comment.” He elbowed his way through the thick tangle of reporters and cameramen, hoping he could leave via a back door.

A uniformed officer guarded the entrance and prevented the press gathering inside. It was the waste of another resource they could better use on the case. Once inside, Frazer was waved through to the back. He found Randall in Tyson’s office, the two men hunched over a bunch of documents. “You have the search warrant?”