Deadly Bonds (12 page)

“Have you tried talking to the school counselor?”

“I don’t need a shrink.”

“He’s not that kind of counselor. He’s good at helping people find what direction they want to go. Otherwise, they’re just spinning their wheels, wasting time and energy. Life’s too short for that.”

Neil would have a hell of a time with his dad if he chose any other path, but she didn’t want to mention the stumbling blocks. He was on the verge of exciting things. She was proud of him for acknowledging what it would take to deviate from his dad’s plans, and evaluating the pros and cons on his own.

Neil stood. “Thanks, Miss Sara.”

“You’re welcome. Come see me anytime, especially if you need help.”
Talking to your dad
, she wanted to add. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and, with a brief nod, was gone.

It seemed she hadn’t been the only one carrying around a burden she’d had to get off her chest. She wondered if Holt was feeling as stunned as she was right now.

* * *

The Evanston Police Department served the Academy and everything within a several-mile radius. Holt’s father had worked here for decades, and stopped by his old stomping grounds to hear Holt’s profile of Toxin.

“The killer known as Toxin killed four people over the past nine months. Based on his identification with me in his latest note and certain aspects of the crime scene, he’s in his mid-thirties, Caucasian and college-educated. We haven’t found the connection between him and the victims yet. He’s most likely a successful businessman, and most definitely likes to be in control.”

“A puppet master,” his father added. “He likes to run the show.”

“Yes, that’s an apt description. He even named himself Toxin. We’re still trying to trace the chemicals found in the victims’ systems, though we think he may be using a lab in south Chicago. That he uses a neurotoxin is telling.”

A hand went up and Holt acknowledged the officer. “So we should look particularly close at people who have a science background, or people with interests in poisons?”

“That’s possible. Detective Noah Crandall has been investigating that angle, particularly by questioning employees of chemical companies in Chicago as well as professors, researchers, etc. We’re also keeping an eye on suspected drug dealers and their sources. If you run across someone suspicious, give Noah or me a call.”

“What about the note on the most recent victim?”

“The fact that Toxin focused on me, and my association with a female here in the area, Sara Burns, indicates he is in an unhappy relationship with someone, or has recently lost a relationship he valued.”

“Hard to believe someone like him cares about anyone,” one guy muttered, loud enough for the room to hear.

“He cares enough to take lives,” Holt’s father said.

Holt felt his father’s frustration. “He’s clearly expressing a sense of entitlement, but quite possibly due to the loss of an important person in his life as well.” Holt knew all too well what a loss could do to a person’s perception of the world. “While he’s intelligent and sane enough to restrain his impulse to kill for long periods of time, to make plans, and to fit into society, he’s acting out of misguided notions of heroism.”

“So watch out for a man in a superhero cape?”

“I only wish it were that easy.”

The men chuckled but quickly sobered. Laughter was welcome in lightening the mood, but everyone knew what was at stake. Innocent lives.

* * *

“I don’t have that kind of money.” The lie fell easily from Toxin’s lips because Brady Flaherty was an asshole and a lazy SOB. Apparently, he was also a desperate SOB if he was reaching this far out on the family tree, hitting
him
, of all people—a guy who was barely even a leaf on a branch of that tree anymore—up for money.

“I’ll pay you back,” Brady insisted. “I’m good for it.”

Yeah, right. The guy was no good to anyone except as a hired gun. Yet...maybe there was a way Brady
could
pay him back. A plan began to form, one that would get both Brady and Dr. Holt Patterson off his back...and then he could focus on his new plan of taking over Patterson’s life. The unfortunate side effect of his latest kill had been giving Patterson more insight into Toxin’s life. Now Patterson was interviewing Buzz’s family...which could, though unlikely, lead to him.

Buzz.
Toxin felt a rush of power remembering the kill. He’d been patient, waiting months to make his move, because this one was personal. But when it was right, he’d struck quickly. At least he’d still had time to enjoy the recognition and the surrender in Buzz’s eyes. The guy had always thought Toxin was weak and amoral. In the end, Buzz had acknowledged who was right and who was wrong. The old battleax wouldn’t be passing judgment again anytime soon. Not ever, in fact.

“Sorry, Brady.” Toxin interrupted the guy’s list of reasons why he needed the money. “No can do. Maybe try getting a real job and contributing to society for a change?”

Brady cursed at him and hung up. Toxin grinned. Brady had just given him the perfect out. One call to his ex-girlfriend Gloria and the wheels would be in motion. And Patterson would be off his trail for a while—long enough for Toxin to set up the next phase of his plan. As for Brady, the stupid SOB wouldn’t know what hit him.

Chapter Eleven

October

“This is the place,” Noah said as Holt joined him on the sidewalk outside an apartment building.

“And you’re certain this Brady Flaherty is our guy?” Holt asked.

“Following your recommendation, we closely investigated Leonard Redding’s family.”

Because Toxin had referred to his victim as
Buzz
in the note, which indicated a certain level of familiarity, Holt had told Noah to pay special attention to the people closest to Redding. “And someone talked?”

“The victim’s daughter Gloria said that Buzz is a nickname her father earned in the military. His family began calling him by that name years ago, but most people outside of the family would call him Leonard. When I hinted that a family member might be involved, she mentioned that one of her cousins could be a suspect. Brady Flaherty. According to her, Buzz refused to loan Brady money just days before his murder. I’ve got a warrant to search the premises, based on the guy’s record and Gloria’s suspicions. The landlord says Brady is likely at the gym. He sticks to his afternoon workout schedule as if it were his religion.”

Noah mounted the stairs leading to a door that looked like all the others. The landlord stood waiting for them with keys in hand. He let them in and left. Noah scanned the living room and kitchen area, then strode to the doorway that had to lead to the bedroom. He disappeared inside but quickly returned.

“He’s not here,” Noah said. “We should have a good half hour or so until he returns.”

The furnishings were sparse, a sagging couch that had seen better days, a nicked-up coffee table, and a single barstool by the kitchen counter. A couple of empty liquor bottles and dirty dishes filled the kitchen sink. “You said Brady has a record?”

Noah donned latex gloves and started picking through drawers. “Assault and battery. Armed robbery. Typical thug stuff.”

His record could explain the lack of personal touches and furniture, especially if Brady was still engaged in criminal behavior and anticipated the possibility of future jail time. It also fit Toxin’s MO. The killer never left a trace of anything personal at the crime scenes. But would Toxin be so sloppy as to leave clues that would lead them right to his door? “What did you think about Gloria? Do you believe her?”

“I’m no psychologist, but I’d say she’s depressed. Or maybe she’s just in shock at the loss of her father.”

“Is Brady linked to the Academy at all?”
To Sara?

“I haven’t had time to dig deep enough, but I’m sure we’ll find the connections. Anything on the repeat background checks from the Academy?”

Damian had agreed with Holt that they should cover any possibility, including using SSAM resources to re-examine the backgrounds of the teachers and support staff at the school. “So far, no red flags other than one who had a misdemeanor for smoking weed in college. She’s sixty now, though, and has taught there for decades. And she’s
female.
I don’t recall seeing Brady Flaherty on the list.”

Noah grunted. “If he’d been associated with the school, it would have been under an alias. Otherwise, his criminal record would have prevented him from getting hired.” He closed the last kitchen cupboard. “There’s nothing unusual out here. Let’s try the backrooms.”

Holt followed Noah into the single bedroom. Another door led to the bathroom. “I’ll start here.” It didn’t take long. In the cabinet under the sink, a box of hypodermic needles, alongside a bottle of something Holt suspected was the chemical cocktail injected into Toxin’s victims, was tucked behind a couple rolls of toilet paper. “Noah, I’ve got something.”

But the sound of the front door opening, followed by the scratch of keys as they slid across a flat surface kept Noah from observing the find. Brady was home.

Noah jerked his head toward the door and withdrew his gun. Holt nodded and followed as Noah moved into the living room. “Police! Put your hands where I can see them.”

Brady was still taking his jacket off by the open front door. He bolted.

“Shit.” Noah cursed and they took off at a run.

The hours spent in the gym paid off as Brady took the stairs two at a time and raced to his motorcycle. He didn’t bother snatching his helmet off the back, but reached in his pocket for his keys—the keys Holt had heard sliding across the table where Brady had thoughtlessly tossed them. Caught in the sights of Noah’s pistol with no way to escape, the man put his hands in the air.

* * *

Three hours later, Holt told himself repeatedly that he was
not
driving to the Academy to drink in Sara with his own eyes. He told himself he hadn’t missed seeing her or hearing her voice these past couple weeks. It was simply a courtesy to tell her in person about arresting Toxin, since it impacted her life too. Besides, visiting Sara would allow him to tell Becca her job at the Academy was done and she could move on to other cases.

When Holt left the station, Brady was still giving them the silent treatment, refusing to speak a word until his lawyer got there. But the incriminating evidence had been under the sink where Holt had seen it.

Exhilaration filled him. He’d finally apprehended a killer who’d eluded him for months. Holt wanted to share that feeling with someone. The first someone who’d come to mind was Sara.

He practically raced up the steps to her apartment. His knock was answered almost immediately, and Sara stood there in yoga pants and a T-shirt. His breath caught in his chest, but he managed a syllable. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Sara said, her eyebrows raised in surprise. He hadn’t thought to call first, thinking of nothing but getting to her as soon as possible.

Becca, who’d been staying on Sara’s couch most nights as added protection, came up behind Sara. “Is there news?”

“Good news,” Holt told her.

Sara moved aside and waved him in. “Well?”

He grinned. He hadn’t felt this good in ages. “We caught him.”

Becca’s jaw dropped. “Toxin?”

“That’s fantastic!” Sara caught him up in a spontaneous hug, her breasts pressing against his chest, and desire flared up within him. She stiffened against him and began to pull away, as if remembering her resolution to leave him alone.

Not wanting the contact to end, he brought his arms around her. His body ached with physical want. When had he last been hugged? Something inside him, like the pulling of a drawstring, brought a sense of closure. He was sorry when he had to let go, but Becca was standing there, watching them with interest.

“So, who is he?” Sara asked. The huskiness in her voice indicated she had been affected by their embrace too.

“Brady Flaherty. The latest victim’s nephew. Found evidence of the neurotoxin in Brady’s apartment after Buzz’s daughter pointed us in his direction.”

Becca’s brow knitted. “But why would he kill those other people?”

“While we were processing him at the station, Einstein continued to dig for connections. He found Brady used to work for the first victim. He was a night janitor at Tech Innovations where Joseph Kurtz was CEO, but only for a few months before he was fired. In Brady’s apartment, there was a matchbook from the bar where Dr. Brown was murdered. And on his hard drive was a hate letter addressed to Senator Beechum. So far, Brady’s not talking to police. He probably knows that the moment I hear his voice, I’ll know he’s Toxin.”

“Does he fit the profile?”

“He’s white, within the early-to-mid-thirties age bracket I’d identified, and had a trigger event. He was fired from Tech Innovations just before the first murder. When Buzz refused to lend him money a few weeks back, he apparently snapped again. He has a history of violence. Brady is the black sheep of the Redding family—always in trouble, sometimes in jail, and usually out of a job—and Buzz made it clear what he thought of his no-good nephew. The only part that doesn’t fit my profile is he’s a career criminal, not a successful career person.”

“Guess I’m out of a job, then.” Becca grinned, not looking the least bit sorry. “I’m sure you two can manage here.” She snatched her bag from beside the couch and hugged Sara. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you.”

“Me too.” Becca left and Sara, looking uncharacteristically shy, avoided Holt’s gaze. “Looks like we both have things to celebrate tonight.”

“Celebrate?”

“One of my students is scheduled to take the SAT tomorrow, and it looks like he’ll do well. But that’s nothing compared to what you’ve accomplished. You deserve some kind of party for hauling in Toxin. Hell, you deserve the key to the city.”

He slid her a doubtful look. “I didn’t do it with my own two hands.”

“Don’t sell yourself short like that. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and if you hadn’t come up with a profile, the police might never have caught him.” The defensiveness in her voice—on
his
behalf, despite everything—pleased him. She looked away. “But I suppose you need to get going.”

He took a step closer, putting her within arm’s reach. He remembered what she’d felt like in his arms just moments ago, and wouldn’t mind feeling that again. “How about a drink? You said we both had things to celebrate.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

After another moment of consideration, she nodded. “Okay. We’ll have a drink to toast our success.”

His gaze moved over her face. “I’d like that.” He leaned forward suddenly, wanting to taste her.

* * *

Sara pulled away, her surprised gaze colliding with his. At some point, she’d put her hand against his chest. Did he want her—truly want her—or was he simply caught up in the thrill of success? Then again, she was tired of overthinking things. She curled her fingers into Holt’s jacket and pulled him close, then pressed her lips to his. His arms automatically went around her, holding her against him. Never removing her mouth from his, she slid the zipper down his chest and pushed her hands inside until she was stripping his jacket off.

As kisses went, it was sweet, both literally and emotionally. But the tentative sampling didn’t satisfy the ache that had throbbed inside her for months. Seeking relief, she pressed her body closer, her breasts to his chest, her hips to his. His heat suffused her.

His hands came up to either side of her face, cradling her. She opened her mouth to him, encouraging him to investigate further. His tongue swept inside and she nearly gasped with pleasure. He slanted his mouth over hers, moaning as he seemed to let go of something that held him back. The air became charged with a new kind of energy, sizzling along her skin.

In a split second, his mouth turned from curious and tasting to hot and wanting. His hands slid into her hair, anchoring her in place as he explored. His chest pressed against hers, and her nipples ached beneath her shirt. As her skin came alive, her muscles went liquid. Feeling weak in the knees, she moved backward toward the couch. Holt came with her, not leaving any gaps between their bodies. The backs of her knees hit the couch and she sank down, pulling him with her, feeling his weight on top of her, anchoring her when she thought the fizzy feeling inside might make her float away.

* * *

Swamped by urges Holt never thought to feel again, he gave in to his baser needs. As he pressed into her, wishing their clothing could simply evaporate, the taste, the smell, the feel of Sara filled his senses.

He pinned her arms above her head, and his mouth moved across her jawline and toyed with her sensitive ear. She interlaced her fingers with his—just like he’d held Elizabeth’s hand when she’d received the news that weeks of radiation hadn’t worked. The sudden memory was like a bucket of ice water thrown on his head.

Holt pulled away and sucked in several breaths. At some point they’d moved onto the couch and he was stretched out on top of Sara. Hell, his erection was pressing into her thigh. One more minute and he would have yanked her pants down and buried himself inside her. How had he lost himself so completely?

But the sight of her, flushed and rosy and panting beneath him, nipples peaked against the T-shirt stretched across her heaving chest, stirred a war of wills within him. Desire versus rationality. His needs nearly had him leaning in again to recapture the passionate moment.

“Whoa.” Coming from Sara, the word was full of wonder.

He propped himself on one elbow and pushed a hand through his hair, finding it had been thoroughly mussed by her fingers. He’d been so wrapped up in her that he hadn’t even noticed. The thought had his groin hardening even more, to the point of delicious pain. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry?” Her abdomen shifted under his as she redistributed his weight. She exhaled on a laugh. “Did I give you the impression it wasn’t okay with me?”

“I should have asked. It’s too much too fast, for both of us.” And yet he was still on top of her. His body seemed unwilling to obey his brain’s commands.

She pressed farther into the couch cushion, shifting to pull her body out from under his. Her body language indicated he’d said something to put a barrier between them. He moved so that he was safely seated on the other end of the couch. He subtly adjusted the still-hopeful erection straining for her.

But she’d pushed him away, making the decision for them both. His gut twisted when he should have been relieved. He wanted her, but he didn’t want to want her. He felt he was betraying his wife, yet she was gone and had urged him to go on living. But with
Sara?
It was too complicated...wasn’t it? He hated this war of needs within him.

“Well, I for one enjoyed kissing you.” Sara’s smile was back, but her eyes were tinged with hurt. “But if you need time, more than these past couple weeks, to think about it...”

“I’m sorry, Sara.”

Her laugh had an edge to it this time. “That’s the second time you’ve apologized in less than a minute. Just stop, okay. I’d rather not be a regret, thank you very much. I’m fine. We had a moment. It was fun. We survived. No harm, no foul.”

Fun?
Frustration burned in his gut. “It was one hell of a moment.”

A furrow formed, wrinkling her smooth brow. “But you just said...”