Cut to the Chase (7 page)

S
cott was used to faking it. Mimicking human emotion and mannerisms that were deemed socially appropriate had become second nature to him. But maintaining the façade for several days, around the clock, was a bit of a challenge.

But as he envisioned the sniper rifle tucked securely away in the trunk of his vehicle, he knew the hunting trip had been worth the discomfort. In addition to securing a weapon that could never be traced back to him, he had been able to practice on a live target. He was quite pleased with himself by the end of the trip. Even Dennis, a diligent and seasoned hunter, was impressed with his skills behind the trigger. Too bad Dennis wasn't diligent enough to notice that one of his many rifles had gone missing.

Scott pulled into the parking garage and weaved his way through BMWs, a Mercedes and a few Rovers and then stopped abruptly. Erin's vehicle, a modest four-door sedan, stood next to Chase Montclair's Bentley. His blood boiled as he stared at his Angel's car, housed comfortably in Montclair's building. It was the final push he needed. Scott put his car in park, withdrew the GPS tracker from his glove compartment and exited his vehicle. Though he needed to do this swiftly and without drawing attention, he silently repeated his mantra: Control, Focus, Control…Act.
He bent down on his hands and knees and tucked the magnetic box under the body of Montclair's vehicle. Confident that the device was secure and successfully hidden, Scott stood and reentered his own vehicle. His hands were shaking slightly, which irritated him. This had gone on for far too long. Now that he could track Montclair's whereabouts, it would make it that much easier to accomplish his task. Scott made his way out of the garage and drove a few blocks before pulling over.

Scott did not like to lose. But he also couldn't look past Erin's transgressions any longer. His Angel had completely disregarded his directions and, from the looks of it, was now sleeping with filth. He typed in his final text to the woman who had gone from pristine, the embodiment of purity, to an infested Whore.

Erin stared at her phone in horror. He had made the threat before, but now, as she stood in Chase's kitchen, about to prepare a home-cooked meal for the two men in her life, she heard that other shoe drop with distinct clarity.

Chase entered the kitchen just in time to see her lay the phone down on the counter, her hands shaking uncontrollably. His smile faded instantly as he looked from her to the phone. Chase walked over, grabbed the phone and went right to her messages:
“Good-bye, sweet Angel, for the Whore has taken residence. Those content to lie with filth, shall join it for all eternity.”

Hearing Chase say the words aloud was much worse than reading them. It was not a veiled threat. Her rapist couldn't have been clearer about his intentions. She and the man she loved would walk around, possibly forever, with targets on their backs if Mia couldn't help them narrow down what they were up against.

M
ia arrived within an hour of Chase's call.

The rapist had sent Erin a message bidding her farewell, which meant that his days of taunting her via text were over. He wanted to move on. But in order to do just that, he would need closure, at least that is what Mia concluded based on her research.

“Okay, Mia, what kind of lunatic are we dealing with?” Chase asked, clenching Erin's hand. Erin was enveloped completely by his embrace, making her appear small and fragile. But Mia knew that looks could be deceiving. Over the last several days, Mia had learned just how strong Erin could be. She was a fighter, one who would rather carry the burden on her own than dump her problems on the two people on the couch to either side of her. Mia could definitely relate. She too felt the need to keep her feelings, her own demons, securely tucked away, where they couldn't be a nuisance to anyone.

Mia looked across the room at her uncle Drew. He nodded, as if he was giving her the green-light to speak freely. Mia shifted her gaze to Chase, Erin, and Paul. “We're not up against a madman. The man we're dealing with knows right from wrong. He knows exactly what he's doing…he just doesn't care. He doesn't feel remorse or show empathy, though most psychopaths can mimic both if the situation warrants it.” Mia looked from Paul to Chase and Erin and saw their concern growing by the second. But time was clearly of the essence, as the rapist's latest text indicated, so she continued unloading the profile on them.

“Based on the information you were able to provide me in our sessions, we can conclude that our psychopath is of medium build and most likely Caucasian.” Erin was able to rule out her attacker being of African American descent because she saw the color of his skin, unfortunately in the most private of places. Mia didn't want to dwell on that fact too much, as it would only make Chase and Paul uncomfortable.

“Although no two psychopaths are the same, there are a number of characteristics that most possess, such as the complete lack of remorse and emotion.”

“How do they function, then, in society I mean?” Erin asked.

“They know what the social norms are, what is socially acceptable and appropriate. In other words, they fake it. They tend to have average to above-average intelligence and are master manipulators, working the system and the people around them to their advantage, and they can come across as…normal. That is what makes them so dangerous. Psychopaths aren't the individuals walking through the streets, unkempt, muttering to themselves, paranoid that the government is spying on them. No, they can hold normal jobs, be that next-door neighbor that gives you the creeps for reasons unbeknownst to you.”

Mia watched Erin digest that information. Mia was thankful that the three of them remained silent. It was best she gave them the complete profile and then open up the floor to questions and discussion. “They can be calculating, patient even, if the end goal is that desirable. Our psychopath knew you, Erin, before that night, most likely for some time. He could have been waiting weeks or months for that perfect moment to strike.”

“Do you think it was someone…like a classmate at my university?” Erin asked.

“I don't think so, though it's not impossible. I think this individual is a little older, more established.” Mia got the impression Erin already knew that and was simply checking the possibility off her mental list. “Erin, his texts, the dialogue he had with you the night in the cemetery, indicate that he craves cleanliness, requires his women to be pure, unblemished. He seeks virgins or at the minimum, women who lead a lifestyle that strongly hints at the possibility that they haven't been exposed to ‘filth,' as he calls it.”

“How could he have known that…that I had never been with a man before? I find that information to be impossible to obtain,” Erin said.

“He couldn't know that for sure, but he must have followed you closely, knew your habits, who you hung out with, where you slept at night, to feel confident that you had met his specific requirements,” Mia said.

Mia knew that it was time to unveil and put a spotlight on the elephant in the room. “The text you received tonight refers to you no longer being his ‘Angel,' but a whore in his eyes. You have been tainted, ruined because of your relationship with Chase. And it makes him grow increasingly uncomfortable that you may be infecting his world. You have fallen off the pedestal. And he will make it a priority to make sure you land with the rest of the women who have fallen from grace…women like Gabrielle.”

Erin's eyes widened at the sound of Gabrielle's name. Chase also appeared shaken, as he gripped Erin's hand even tighter.

“Then you are convinced that our psychopath killed Gabrielle?” Chase asked.

“Could she have taken her own life? Of course. Her track record was not good. Her parents, the police…knew she was capable of committing suicide. But more importantly, he knew and could have used that to his advantage. The newspapers and the magazines reported that beautiful model Gabrielle Green had taken her own life after suffering from a mood disorder for over a year. There was no need for further investigation. No need to point the finger in any other direction. To the world, she was a depressed young woman who couldn't face what life had dished out. I'm not convinced that Gabrielle killed herself. She had seen his face, could have outed him at any time. I can only assume she had served her purpose in his eyes and then he discarded her.”

Chase stood and paced the living room. “So, what now? We can't just wait and let him find us.”

“No, we can't wait. It's obvious from his text that he wants closure, which can only be achieved if you and Erin are dead.” Mia thought it was more productive to be blunt. “Erin, Chase, you both mentioned Scott Morris in your sessions. I was in the process of researching the young doctor when you called me tonight.”

Erin grew pale. Mia thought she was going to be sick, maybe even faint. “Are you all right?” Mia asked.

Chase whipped around in response to Mia's question to Erin. He hustled over to the couch and sat next to her. “What is it, baby?”

“I…I don't know. I just…” she shook her head, cutting herself short.

“Say it, Erin. Remember what I said about the details?” Mia asked, referring to the conversation they had during their first session, when she allowed Erin in for a moment and told her about her mother's murder.

Erin nodded and it appeared that the blood was slowly returning to her cheeks. “I remember,” Erin said, smiling gently. Erin closed her eyes, sat up straight and crisscrossed her legs. She exhaled and then said, “Scott Morris is the neighbor you described, the one that gives you the creeps for reasons unknown. I have no idea why he makes me feel that way. I only saw him once while I was in college, and that was when he introduced himself in his father's office over a year ago. The only other contact was at the benefit and in Chase's lab.”

“Scott Morris left his position at Penn Medical Center along with two other oncologists and joined the Oncology Department at Overbrook Hospital here in New York. That much I know. But I need more information. If he is the one who committed the crime, his injuries would have prevented him from going to work for some time.”

Uncle Drew had remained in the doorway, listening. He was probably two steps ahead of her, silently predicting what she was going to ask him next. “Uncle Drew, I think it's wise to put someone on Scott Morris. I want to know his schedule, who he associates with; frankly, I want to account for his whereabouts at all times. In the meantime, I'll go to Philly to learn more about Dr. Morris. I also want to analyze the scene of the crime while I'm there.”

“You will do no such thing, at least not by yourself. I'm going with you,” Paul said, his voice abrupt and demanding…possessive. He had been quiet the entire time, his expression unwavering and very lawyer-like. His sudden declaration drew the attention of Erin, Chase, and Uncle Drew. They stared at him for a moment as if surprised over his commanding tone.

Erin broke the silence. “I'll go, too.”

Mia knew how painful it could be for a victim to return to the scene. It would rip open the wounds that may have just started to scar over. “I don't think that's a good idea, Erin. It will evoke memories that I don't think you need to relive.”

Erin didn't appear hurt, but frustrated…and remarkably strong willed. Erin was a fighter, a woman Mia admired more with each passing second. “I live with those memories every day, although they have lessened as of late.” Erin smiled at Chase, as if silently telling him that he was the reason why her mind didn't go to that dark place more often. “Besides, you don't know where the cemetery is or the path I chose that night. It may be helpful if I come. You know, to provide the details?” Erin took her eyes off of Chase for a split second and stared at Mia, as if challenging her.

How the hell could Mia argue with that reasoning? Erin had used her own words against her. Smart girl.

“We will all go. I own a condo in Center City, though I haven't been there for a while. I stay there if and when I'm needed by my Philadelphia branch. Andrew, would you be able to come along with us? I'm reluctant to take Erin anywhere, especially into Philly, without proper security,” Chase said.

Uncle Drew nodded, accepting the directive. “I think that's wise. If you don't mind, I would like to personally assign someone to Scott Morris while we're gone. He's in my line of work and will be discreet, if not invisible.”

Mia knew how protective her uncle could be, but it was clear from their stunned but appreciative expressions that they were not used to Andrew taking control or uttering more than two words at a time.

“I would be willing to accept any support you could provide to ensure Erin's safety,” Chase said, putting his arm around Erin's waist.

“Tomorrow, then?” Mia asked.

“Yes, the sooner the better,” Erin answered.

Mia had already called out sick from work once this week. It would be easy to claim that she had come back too soon and her body had relapsed. She rarely got sick, so she was hopeful that her absences wouldn't raise any administrative eyebrows. “I'll be over in the morning, say around nine o'clock?”

“Sounds great,” Erin said. Mia was surprised when Erin walked over to her and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, Mia. I don't know if I could do this with anyone else. You make me feel…strong.” Mia noticed that Erin was on the verge of tears and immediately empathized with what she was going through. The bond that was forming between them solidified with each shared secret and it felt eerily similar to real friendship. Mia had friends in college, but after her mother had died, those great, supportive friends seemed to drop off the face of the earth. Her mother's murder had attracted so much publicity that even her closest friends sought refuge, distancing themselves from Mia and the media circus.

Her friend Carina was the only one who remained in her life. However, even that relationship was starting to dwindle, which was solely Mia's fault. Carina had been the one to call, email, even drive into the city to see her on several occasions. The effort on Mia's end was embarrassingly less. It wasn't that she didn't want to see Carina or remain friends; she was just in a funk, one she didn't know if she would ever get out of. Carina must have gotten the hint that she needed space or something, because her friend's calls had ceased, making it a little over two weeks since her last valiant attempt.

“Good. You'll need that strength in the coming days. But if you feel that strength leaving you, we'll be there. We won't let you fall,” Mia whispered, so only Erin could hear. Mia hugged her before heading to the elevator.

“I'll walk you to your car,” Paul said from behind. His voice sounded strained, as if he was troubled.

“I parked in the building's parking garage, in the slot Chase assigned to me. I'll just take the elevator down. No need to walk me. Thanks, though,” she said. She thought she had sounded appreciative of his gesture, but from the look in his eyes, he seemed, well, angry.

“Then, I'll ride with you on the elevator and see for myself that you have reached your car safely,” he said, his tone dark. He entered the elevator and pushed the button for the appropriate level. The elevator door closed behind them.

“I need you to stop this, Mia,” he said, his head bowed, those gorgeous blue eyes peering through long thick lashes.

Mia felt her face grow warm. Stop what? Thinking about him? Dreaming about him? Masturbating while envisioning him doing things to her, erotic things she had never in her innocent life experienced?

“What are you talking about? Stop what?”

“You need to stop putting yourself in danger. Taking Henry for a stroll at all hours, walking in a parking garage at night…alone. You're not being safe.”

Oh…that.

“Paul, I know that you feel the need to protect me, well, women in general, considering everything, but I can take…”

Paul made the space between them disappear and he pressed her up against the elevator wall with his hard, and oh God, muscular body. “You can take what, Mia?” he asked, his thumb and forefinger lifting her chin, forcing her to look at him.

The sudden contact, her body perfectly molded against his, the scent of him, an intoxicating mixture of his soap of choice and cologne she was not familiar with made her legs weak. “I…I can take care of myself,” Mia said, fumbling. She regretted her choice of words the moment they were uttered. She had been “taking care” of herself, in more ways than one, for years.

He smiled, as if enjoying how off-balance she was around him.

Shit.

“Why take care of yourself…when I'm right here?” he said, his smile fading. His eyes grew dark and heated, and Mia wondered how she was going to break free of him without incident. The elevator beeped and the doors opened, unveiling the parking garage. But he didn't move, or retract his fingers from her chin. Instead, he continued to stare at her, waiting for a response.