Deadly Bonds (10 page)

He chuckled. “She would have had me clearing the furniture away to make a dance floor.”

Sara snorted. “Yeah, and we would have been propping up the wall.”

“Or holding down the couch.”

* * *

Was he really thinking about holding down the couch with Sara? Holt put down his empty glass and stood. Time to get back to reality. “I think I should get going.”

“No way you’re driving. You aren’t sober.” She jumped up, then swayed. He reached out a hand to steady her and felt the skin-to-skin contact jolt through him. She laughed. “Neither of us is. Stay. Unless, of course, you have to get home to Theo and relieve a sitter. I could call you a cab.”

“Theo’s with my parents for the night.”

“Good, then there’s no reason to leave.”

There were many reasons, not the least of which was he needed time to process this
friendship
with the new Sara. He was about to opt for a cab, but his niggling conscience and the determined look in Sara’s eye swayed him.

He sat down and tugged her down next to him, if only to keep her from tipping over. She wasn’t kidding when she’d said two drinks was her limit. “You’re right.”

She bounced right back up and moved away from him, almost as if she were nervous. “Just what every woman likes to hear. You can sleep in my bed.”

“Just what every man likes to hear.” He was surprised at the heat that shot through him, landing in his groin, at her innocent invitation.

“You’re not every man. You were my best friend’s husband. And I was planning to take the couch.”

“I wasn’t coming on to you,” he assured her. But he might very well have been flirting with her, just a little. “Thank you. A place to sleep is a generous offer, and I’ll accept only because I’m seeing two of you right now. But
I’ll
take the couch.”

Chapter Eight

The hot water ran through Sara’s hair and over her face, leaching some of the pain from the pounding headache. Despite a touch of hangover, this morning she felt lighter...happier. It was amazing what some forgiveness could do. She and Holt had made a huge step together last night.

She’d risen early so she could shower and dress before he woke. Then, he could use the apartment’s only facilities while she made coffee. That was the plan, anyway, but as she entered the living room, still wrapping her wet hair back into a twist, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee nearly made her weep with gratitude.

“You certainly found your way around quickly,” she said.

Holt took two mugs out of the cupboard. “I thought you could use a cup. I know I could.”

“It smells wonderful. Thank you.” She took the full cup he offered. He looked crisp and fresh, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t wearing the same clothing as the night before. “The bathroom’s all yours if you want it.”

“Thanks, but I had my travel bag in the car. Already brought it in and used the boys’ bathroom downstairs to dress.” His gaze ran over her quickly before darting away. “Thanks for the couch.”

She winced. “I hope it wasn’t too short.”

“I made do.” His expression was hidden as he took a swallow of coffee. Was he regretting what they’d shared with each other?

She ran a finger around the rim of her mug, unsure how to go back to the more comfortable manners they’d had with each other last night.

His next words relieved her anxiety. “I thought maybe Theo and I could sit with you at the family-faculty breakfast this morning.”

“That would be great.”

He downed the rest of his coffee and rinsed the mug, then set it in the sink. “No dishwasher, huh?”

She set her own cup down and waggled her fingers. “That would be these puppies. Magic fingers.” She stuck the fingers in the pockets of her slacks as the mood turned awkward again. But maybe it was all on her end. How had her attraction to Holt Patterson flared up again? She’d managed to shut it down for so long. Apparently, it had been a dormant seed, just waiting for a bit of rain to encourage it to bloom brightly again.

He glanced at his watch and her gaze went to the hair on the back of his hands. Brown, like the hair on his head, with highlights as if dusted with sunshine. “I promised Theo I’d pick him up at eight-fifteen so we’d be at the breakfast on time. I’d better get going.”

“I’ll see you there.”

He paused as he passed her at the breakfast counter. “Thank you for last night. It meant a lot to be able to talk to someone who understands.”

“To me too.”

In the wake of Holt’s departure, the apartment seemed quieter than the normal Saturday morning. Sara hurried to straighten up, washing the mugs and coffeepot, as well as the tumblers they’d drank from the night before. She paused in the process of folding the couch sheets, and resisted the urge to hold them to her nose and inhale Holt’s musky scent. She left them on the couch. She was in a hurry anyway, she told herself. She was so good at telling herself what she needed to hear.

* * *

The family-faculty breakfast at the Heather Hedge Lodge was located in the restaurant across the lobby from the bar where they’d had the mixer the night before. A fresh flower adorned each table, along with crisp white tablecloths. The students who attended filled up on the buffet brunch—most of them returning two or three times—while the teachers and parents seemed to have no problem engaging in conversation as they ate.

John Rochard passed by, his two sons trudging behind him. There was no sign of his soon-to-be ex-wife, but rumor had it they could barely stand to be in the same room together. Sara knew the feeling. Despite the wonderful smells coming from the buffet, her stomach clenched up tight in protest of John’s appearance.

“Hi, Neil. Jeremy. John.” Sara smiled at each male in turn.

Jeremy beamed. “We get to eat whatever we want?”

“Whatever your stomach can hold. But I recommend you try a little at a time. You don’t have to pile it on all at once.”

“We’re not heathens,” John said. “Unlike some people, we practice manners and good morals.”

She stiffened. He’d attack her in front of the kids? As usual, it was an insult disguised as vaguely helpful advice. “Practice makes perfect.”

From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a smirk on Neil’s face before he quickly wiped it away and followed his dad to a table. Damn. They were sitting with the president of the board. She should have snagged that seat. But she’d much rather sit with Theo and Holt at a table with friendlier company, anyway.

When Holt arrived a minute later with Theo at his side, he almost looked shy. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she returned.

Theo looked from her to his dad but didn’t seem to note anything odd. He scouted out the restaurant. “I see some friends over there.” They found seats with a couple of Theo’s classmates and their parents, as well as the elementary-level English and Social Studies teachers. For once, she didn’t feel like an outsider looking in. She actually felt like she had a family to sit with.

Don’t kid yourself.
You don’t belong with Holt.

Last night she and Holt had broken through the barriers of their past to form some kind of friendship, but would it last now that the tequila bottle was nowhere in sight?

After they’d filled their bellies—Theo had returned to the buffet three times—they walked to the parking lot together and stopped at her car.

“I’ll see you at school Monday,” she told Theo. “You two enjoy the rest of your weekend.” Hers would be painfully quiet after the engaging company she’d had.

“You too.” Holt’s gaze held hers over Theo’s head. “Thanks again for the talk. It helped.”

“Same here.” Her heart pulled as they walked away, as if there were an invisible string connecting it to them. Holt had offered friendship. The thought had originally been laughable considering their history, but after a taste of Holt’s friendship, she found herself thirsting for it. He was quick-witted and kind.

He’s also Elizabeth’s.
The angel on her shoulder was relentless.

The devil opposite her whispered “
was
.” He
was
Elizabeth’s.

* * *

The woman looked so forlorn that Toxin’s chest tightened with sympathy. His father would have called him a pussy if he’d still been alive.
Emotions make a man weak.
Might as well grow a vagina.

Shit. Now he was hearing his old man’s voice in his head, after all these years. He’d have Henry tweak the latest batch. Apparently, he was becoming tolerant to the pleasant effects of the drug, which were intended to enhance the senses and creativity...not
feelings.
Christ.

He’d learned the hard way that his goddamn bastard of a father had been
right
. Didn’t that beat all?

But the look Sara Burns cast toward Holt as he walked away with his son was nothing short of miserable. He knew that feeling well, and it dredged up old memories. Longing. Loss.

She and Holt had spent the night at her apartment. He’d followed Holt there from the Lodge and watched him go inside. The man hadn’t come out in the hours Toxin waited.

But now, Holt left her standing alone in a parking lot, a look of hopelessness on her face? What a jackass. Sara was one ripe woman. Hair like sweet, flowing honey. Eyes without guile. Curvy in all the right places. A laugh that tugged at a man’s genitals.

And yet Holt kept walking. All the way to his car.

But
,
what have we here?
Sara got into her car, and in doing so missed the look Holt shot her way over the roof of his own. She wasn’t the only one wanting more.

At breakfast, their body language told him everything. They wanted each other but didn’t want to want each other. Or maybe they didn’t even know they wanted each other yet. What the hell had they been doing all night in Sara’s apartment? His studies of Holt told him this behavior was out of the norm.

Toxin smiled. Sara was something special, and she was getting to Holt. The so-called mindhunter hadn’t even noticed Toxin following him. He hadn’t noticed the prick in the flashy sports car between Toxin’s and Holt’s, either. Or that said prick had crept into the school and spied on whatever was going on inside. It appeared Holt or Sara had another admirer.

If Holt liked Sara enough to deviate from his self-enforced celibacy, she was some damn good piece of ass. He’d like to taste a bit of that sweetness for himself.

In fact, Holt’s life was a very nice one indeed. Toxin wouldn’t mind slipping it on like a comfortable pair of shoes and walking around a while. He’d spent the night imagining that. And planning. He’d already taken the initial steps.

One day soon, everything he’d lost, everything Holt had, would be
his.

Chapter Nine

Another body, and Toxin had been brazen enough to call it in to the CPD himself. That Monday, the sun was just appearing as a big orange ball on the horizon when Holt arrived at the scene to which the killer had directed them—an abandoned lot on the south side of Chicago. Thankfully, his father had been available to come over to watch Theo and deliver him to school.

Holt pulled behind a plain vehicle he assumed was Noah’s car. Max’s pickup was already across the street, parked behind a cruiser. The sharp rap of knuckles on the passenger window startled him. The hand belonged to Max. Holt got out of the car and fell into step beside him as they headed for the small group of people standing in the distance.

Holt shot Max a sideways glance. “You look like you’ve been hit by a train.” Yesterday’s five-o’clock stubble was turning into a serious beard. Of course, women probably thought Max looked sexy.

Max grunted. “Long night.” Probably partying with the girl of the month.

They stopped at the perimeter of the cordoned-off area and Noah came over to them. “We’ve been waiting for the sun to come up so we can fully process the scene. Once we were sure we had a dead body, and the officer’s flashlight lit up the syringe, we backed away. The CPD crime scene team just arrived.”

“Any sign of a suspicious person hanging around?” Holt asked.

Noah shook his head. “As you suggested, we’ve had undercover officers watching the perimeter since the killer likes a show. But nothing so far.” He looked about them. “Of course, if he wanted to observe without being noticed, he picked a darn difficult place to do it.” The weed-filled, deserted lot was like an open field. And at this hour of the morning, there was no crowd to hide in.

Noah turned on his heel and led them to the far corner of the lot where three other figures, one in a police uniform and two crime scene analysts, were chomping at the bit to get to the evidence.

“What do you know so far?” Holt picked his way across the broken-glass-strewn dirt and knee-high weeds.

“The wallet on the guy identifies him as Leonard Redding, a sixty-five-year-old retired Air Force captain. The syringe and the bruising around a puncture mark on Redding’s neck identify him as one of Toxin’s victims.”

“Bruising?”

“He went at this guy particularly hard.”

“The bruising could indicate that Redding fought back or that Toxin knew him and released his aggression on him.”

Noah didn’t stop walking, but spoke over his shoulder. “There’s another difference. Unlike the others, Captain Redding was killed somewhere else, then dropped at this location.”

“How do you know?”

“Coroner says the body temp indicates Redding was killed about eight hours ago, but there’s dew on the grass under his body. The part of his clothing he was lying on is damp. When he gets to the morgue, the coroner will confirm the theory that Redding was killed elsewhere once he gets a closer look at the pooling of blood.”

“Killed in one location and dropped at another? Killer must be strong.”

“The broken and bent weeds and grass in the area indicate the body was dragged from the roadside, but yes, it would take a good deal of strength if he did it by himself.”

“It’s like Toxin’s evolving his methods, trying to figure out what he wants his pattern to be. Or he’s trying to throw us off.”

Noah stopped as they reached the edge of the circle the technicians had roped off around Redding’s body. “There’s another difference here. A note.”

“Handwritten?” If so, Holt would get the SSAM handwriting consultant on it right away.

“No, printed on printer paper. It’s what it said that is interesting.”

“Please tell me he signed it with his real name and address.”

Noah didn’t even crack a smile. “Unfortunately, no. But he addressed it to you.”

Holt looked at him in surprise. “Me?”

“It seems you have an admirer. He’s been following you since he called the tip hotline last month, from what the note says.”

Max looked sharply between Noah and Holt. “No fucking way.”

“He mentions an incident from a couple weeks ago too. Sounds like a firsthand account. Some kind of picnic?”

Holt’s heart thumped harder. The Labor Day picnic? Toxin had followed him there? Holt took the paper, protected by a plastic sleeve, from Noah.

Dr.
Patterson
,

I’m sure you missed me.
I’ve been following your—my—case since our little chat
,
but you don’t appear to be any closer to discovering who I am.
Must be frustrating to be so inept.
I
wonder what new clues Buzz’s death will give you.
I
look forward to meeting you one day.
You lead an interesting life...when you’re not working so hard at being inept.
The picnic was a particularly interesting day
,
wouldn’t you say?
Interesting enough to finally see your woman again this weekend.
Took you long enough.
She’s sexy and smart...a real catch.
And to think you never would have found each other if your wife hadn’t died.

Holt had to consciously keep his hands from balling the note up and tossing it across the field. Toxin hadn’t mentioned Theo, thank God, but he had seen him with Sara and knew he was a widower. How the hell...? Obviously, Holt hadn’t been thinking clearly, hadn’t even anticipated that the killer might take an interest in him and—
hell
—follow him through his everyday activities. What exactly had he seen between Holt and Sara?
Enough.
Otherwise, why mention her at all?

“Holt?” Max was studying him. “Are you okay, man?”

Noah was watching him too. “Do you know who the
she
is that Toxin refers to?”

“What’s in the note?” Max asked. Holt passed it to him.

“Yes, I know who he’s referring to.” Holt cleared his throat, trying to relieve the tightness there. “Sara Burns. She’s the director at Theo’s school.”

“And she was with you at this picnic he mentioned, as well as this past Friday?”

“Yes.”

Max raised his eyes from the note. “That’s it? You’re not going to tell us more?”

“I’m sure you’re assuming the worst, anyway.”

“Or the best. I’m
assuming
she’s the one who’s got you thinking about abandoning your bid for sainthood.”

“Is he right?” Noah asked. “Do you have a relationship with Miss Burns?”

Jesus.
He sent a hand through his hair. “She’s an old friend of Elizabeth’s. We spent one night together—this past Friday.” His gaze met Max’s. “And it wasn’t like that.”

Max shrugged. “That’s your business, unless a murderer makes it everyone’s business.”

“What
was
it like?” Noah prodded. “It must have been
something
if it grabbed this guy’s attention.”

“It was.
Something.
It was...” Special. They’d shared things with each other, things he wasn’t sure he’d ever have talked about with anyone who didn’t know Elizabeth and Theo as well as Sara did. But apparently, now, he’d have to share it—some of it—with at least two other people. “There was a parent-faculty mixer hosted by Theo’s school. We skipped out early to talk. We had a little too much to drink. I spent the night on her couch. End of story.”

“Is that it?” Max asked.

“That’s it.”

Noah eyed him for another moment. “Obviously, you’re on Toxin’s radar.”

Holt felt sick. “He has to know about Theo.”

Noah’s look was sympathetic. “Better to be prepared than to be caught by surprise. I’ve got officers watching this area in case he’s watching you now.”

Holt’s muscles bunched, resisting the urge to turn and survey the premises himself. He took a deep breath to steady his mind and relax his limbs. “All those details about my life. He wants me to know he knows all about me. Courses of action?”

Max’s eyes turned to flint. “Protect the innocent. And then go on the attack.” Spoken like a true soldier.

“Protect the innocent? You mean take Theo out of school? Stick him in my office like some kind of prisoner?” He shook his head. He didn’t think Toxin’s obsession with him was about Theo. “His words indicate he identifies with me, whereas Sara is a nameless woman and he doesn’t even mention Theo.” Holt felt a tad better as he reconfirmed his suspicions by studying the note again.

Noah nodded. “Then the best place for Theo is probably at the school, where he can keep his routine and is surrounded by familiar people he trusts. Where anyone suspicious would stick out. But you should notify your friend—both about Theo and that she could be in danger.”

Holt found himself looking forward to hearing her voice again. Part of him craved the comfort she’d offered him a few days ago. He couldn’t act on those cravings, of course. She’d been put in enough danger simply by seeing him twice.

No, he should keep far away from her until they caught Toxin. If she didn’t hate him before, when Elizabeth had cut her out of their lives, she’d surely hate him now, for bringing a killer into her world. Still, he found relief in knowing she was at his son’s school. If there was one thing he’d come to know about this new Sara, it was that she wouldn’t let anything happen to Theo. She’d protect him with her life.

* * *

John Rochard rushed in as Sara was eating lunch at her desk. His expression of triumph put Sara on high alert.

“Glad you could make time to see me.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

She glanced pointedly at her lunch. “I
had
made time, but not for another hour yet, at the time you had scheduled.”

She’d invited the parents to make personal conferences with her, and many had taken her up on the offer. But seeing John’s name on the appointment calendar first thing Monday morning had been a shock. Still, she’d hoped it was a good sign. Maybe they could clear the air between them once and for all. Unfortunately, judging by the way his eyes glittered with purpose, she doubted that was his intention.

“This can’t wait any longer,” John said. “I have to get back to the city for work. Important business.”

“I’m sure you do.” Sighing, Sara laid her ham-and-swiss sandwich down. She gestured to a seat, but John remained standing. “I hope you enjoyed the parent functions this weekend.”

He smirked. “I was surprised
you
made it to the breakfast at all.”

Wariness prickled along her skin like the tiny footsteps of invisible bugs. “Of course I did. Forming a relationship with the parents of this school is important to me.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself to face the mirror each day.”

“Excuse me?”

“I saw you. You and him.
Forming a relationship.
”

“Me and
who?
”

“Dr. Patterson. You left the mixer in a hurry Friday night. He left directly after. The both of you were late to the breakfast. You sat together, left together. It doesn’t take much to put two and two together.”

Sara’s cheeks heated with anger and embarrassment. “So you’re adding that up and getting, what, twenty-two?”

“Surely the board will find this information interesting.”

“You should check your math first.”

“I don’t need numbers. I know he spent the night with you. I followed him to the school, saw him go to your apartment.”

Her first reaction was outrage that John had invaded her privacy. Her second was panic. Sara’s throat tightened as her mind flew back over the evening. What exactly had he seen? But no, there hadn’t been anything improper. Just two acquaintances having drinks together at her place. But Holt
had
stayed the night with her on school property...oh, God, how would that look to the board if John talked? He wouldn’t have to try hard to spin it in a negative direction.

He walked to the bookshelf and fingered her Educator of the Year award. To purposely draw attention to her failings as an educator? It seemed he was more devious and calculating than she’d thought.

Rather than dignify his implied threat with a response, she bit her tongue, waiting. Again, she didn’t have to wait long. John Rochard was a man who knew what he wanted, and once that desire was identified, he was impatient to make it a reality...without troubling himself with the same morals and standards as most of the civilized world.

His lips twisted into a perverse smile. “I propose we come to an agreement.”

“Such as?”

“I won’t say anything to the board about your inappropriate behavior and ruin your plans for a theater or whatever other nonsense you have planned.
And
I won’t get you fired.” Sara held her breath as she waited for the price of John’s benevolence. “And
you
help Neil pass his classes this semester. In fact, I think he deserves to be on the Honor Roll.”

“Nothing happened between Dr. Patterson and me.”

“I’m supposed to believe that? What other possible reason would he have for staying all night?”

“And if he did? There are no rules against a faculty or staff member dating a parent.”

“There should be. So many conflicts of interest... I’m sure the board will take note if the case were presented properly. And your review period is right around the corner, isn’t it?”

“There was nothing improper,” she repeated. She hated the squeak that had crept into her tone, but her throat seemed to have closed up over her words.

He stepped around her desk and leaned down until he was in her face. The man liked to use his physical presence to intimidate. “Care to take a lie detector test?”

She looked away from his cold gaze. There was no arguing with him, anyway. He had the board in his pocket. One hint of impropriety and she’d be gone.

“Since birth, Neil was meant to go to Harvard,” John said. “Make it happen. I promise, if I’m happy, you’ll be happy.” He yanked her door open and walked out.

Cheryl hurried in. “Boy, he looked like the cat who swallowed the canary. I almost expected to see feathers sticking out of his mouth. What happened?”