Shadow of Perception (10 page)

Back to business.
He should be ecstatic, grateful that Eden was the type of woman who didn’t bitch about the past. If she’d complained about what had happened between them, though, it might have been a sign that she’d given a rat’s ass about him—at least when it had counted, or even now. He’d fallen hard for her, and yeah, he’d screwed up big time. But knowing she’d felt even an inkling of what he had for her meant that someone finally had cared about him. His mom had walked when he was a kid, his dad had been a narcissistic drunk, his ex-wife…

He gripped the steering wheel and refocused. Now wasn’t the time to give himself a mini therapy session. He’d save that for when the case ended. The old Stingray Corvette sitting in the garage he’d rented would make for great therapy. When he walked away from Eden again, and he knew he would because he also knew the woman, he’d need it.
   

 
“I’m still not sure why this guy’s pegged you to be his outlet. Maybe he had a daughter who’d been in beauty pageants?” he asked controlling his irritation for both her and himself. He wasn’t so sure he would want to walk away, or have her throw him out again. Being around her again…damn she stirred too many memories, of what they’d had between them and what they’d lost when he’d lied to her.
 

“Maybe. But that will do us little good without a name or a face.” She blew out a deep breath. “If he did have a kid on the pageant circuit, why torture a plastic surgeon?”

“If the guy was a plastic surgeon.”

“You said yourself that—”

“I know what I said.” He slowed and parked on the street in front of her townhouse. “Look, I do believe this is a case of plain old revenge. But the guy running the torture chamber might be using the beauty pageant, society being poisoned by the perception of perfection crap as a way to throw us off his trail.”

“I don’t believe that. I don’t think you do, either.”

“Doesn’t matter until he makes another move or Rachel ID’s the victim. What does matter is my need for food. Let’s order a pizza before I starve to death.” He opened his car door and rounded the front end of the Trans Am. “I’m even willing to sacrifice sausage and pepperoni and go all veggie for you,” he said as he helped her from the car.

When she unlocked the front door to the townhouse, they were greeted by raspy barks and meowing. He asked her to place the order while he took the Chihuahua out to take care of business. While Brutal searched for the perfect spot, Hudson wondered, once again, what the hell was wrong with him? Last night, even this morning, he’d dreaded working in close proximity with Eden. Now, though, he looked forward to spending time with her. Although she was still a little icy, he’d noticed a thaw that hadn’t been there two years ago. Maybe, despite her reluctance in the car, given time, she’d be willing to...to what? Get back together? Jump into bed and have hours of hot sex? Picturing her naked, imagining the ways they could spend the rest of the afternoon sent blood rushing to his dick. At this point, though, he’d enjoy hanging out with her. Eating pizza and watching a movie. Things normal people did. Things they’d never done. Between his job and hers, normalcy hadn’t been an option. With Eden’s career, he wondered if it ever would.
 

Hudson scooped up the dog and headed into the townhouse. He needed to shut down the part of his brain that kept going back to all of those emotions he hadn’t and didn’t want to deal with now if ever. Rather than dwell on her and him, he’d finish the case and simply enjoy whatever might happen between them…well, if it happened.
 

Looking forward to a quiet afternoon, he hung his jacket on the coat rack, then rubbed his rumbling stomach. “What time will the pizza be here?”

“I...uh, I didn’t order it,” she said, avoiding eye contact as she gave the dog a treat.

Leaning against the kitchen island, he crossed his arms and fought his irritation. Her apparent obsession with weight was beyond ridiculous. Didn’t she realize she’d become too skinny? Didn’t she realize other people, namely him, actually enjoyed eating and not starving?
 

“You don’t have to eat pizza,” he said and retrieved his cell phone. If she wouldn’t call it in, then he would. “I’ll order a salad if you’re worried about the calories or carbs or whatever’s the latest thing to avoid.”

“I have stuff for a salad here,” she said, not meeting his gaze and busying herself with filling the dog and cat’s water dishes. “And I already told you, if you plan on ordering anything, have it delivered to
your
place. Not mine.”
 

He slipped his cell phone back into his pocket. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you kicking me out? Aren’t you worried that—”

“I’m going to get another DVD?” Still not looking at him, she released a deep sigh. “We don’t even know if there will be another one. And if there is, it probably won’t happen tonight. Remember, the threat was for another person to die if the DVD didn’t air on today’s six o’clock news.”

“So you think you’ll be safe here? Alone?” He shoved off the wall and approached her. “You don’t think it’s possible that this guy’s anticipated that you
won’t
be able to air his horror flick and already has his next victim on the operating table? Oh, and let’s not forget your possible stalker.”
 

She flinched and when she finally met his gaze, he moved closer, fighting the urge to reach for her and smooth away the worry creasing her forehead, to hold her and assure her he’d never let anything happen to her. He fisted his hands instead. The wariness in her eyes, the rigidness of her body told him what he needed to know. She wasn’t ready for what he was willing to offer. Not just sex, but comfort, familiarity, and maybe this time around more of himself.
 

“I’m not trying to scare you. I want you to be realistic. I want you safe.”

Gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, reminding him he’d unintentionally crowded her, she leaned back. “I appreciate your concern. But I’ll be well protected tonight.
All
night.”

Unconvinced he said, “The security system is good, I’ve seen to it myself, but having me here—just in case—is an even better security measure.”

“Sorry, but three’s a crowd. I doubt my date will appreciate my babysitter hanging around while we’re...dating.”

She had a fucking date?
 

“Cancel,” he said, hoping he’d kept the resentment from his voice. Of course he shouldn’t have expected her to remain celibate since they’d broken up. He’d had his share of “dates” too. But knowing another man would be here, in her townhouse, in her bed, had his empty stomach churning with jealousy. The way his emotions were hitting him like a barrage of bullets today, he realized he’d never gotten over the loss of what could have been between them.

No other woman before or after Eden had stirred his gut with thoughts of love and all that other stuff he didn’t have the vocabulary to name.
 

 
“I’m not canceling. I refuse to allow a bunch of what ifs to rule my life.” She straightened and met his gaze. The fierce determination in her eyes made him take a step back and give her space. “I have the security system, my animals and my
date
to protect me. If I need anything else, I’ll give you a call.”

She moved to sidestep him and he grabbed her arm. Unable to resist her tempting scent and equally tempting body, or the jealousy raging through him, he drew her close until his lips were inches from hers. “I still remember everything. How you felt. How you reacted to my touch.” He shoved a hand into her thick, black hair and gripped her scalp. “How you cried out my name when you came.”

A slow, sexy smile curved her lip. “If your memory’s so good then you should also remember what an asshole you were, too.” She pushed past him and moved toward the front door, grabbing his jacket along the way. “Time for you to go,” she said and tossed him his coat.
 

*

“Good afternoon, I have an appointment with Dr. Westly.”

“Your name?”

“Jim Robinson.” The lie rolled smoothly off Michael Morrison’s tongue as he looked around the dental office. He’d stolen a blueprint of the building eighteen months ago, when some of the offices were being remodeled, and he knew there were two exits from this particular office. One through the reception area and another from the hallway flanked with several rooms used by either the dental hygienists or the dentist himself. That exit had a security camera watching the employees as they’d come and go.
 

After searching for dental equipment for his personal use, he understood why the dentist had added the extra security. A used, refurbished dental drill sold for nearly fifteen hundred dollars, which was why Michael decided to stick with his old Black & Decker. After all, he was concerned with results, not his patient’s comfort.
 

“Have you been here before, Mr. Robinson?”
 

His daughter had...too many times. “No. This is my first visit. A family member recommended Dr. Westly.” He shrugged and offered a sheepish smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to the dentist.”

“Before I started working here, I used to avoid the dentist, too,” the receptionist returned with a smile of her own.

“Can you hear the drill from your desk?” he asked and, using his acting skills, shivered. “That’s gotta be like nails on a chalkboard.”

“You get used to it.” She laughed and looked at her schedule. “Okay, Mr. Robinson, I have you down for a cleaning, x-rays, and exam.”

“I won’t be doing any x-rays today. If Dr. Westly finds something, then maybe.” Leaving dental records behind would be suicide. Once the authorities realized the dentist was missing they’d likely look at Westly’s patients, connect the dots, and discover his true identity.

“Well, that’ll save you a pretty penny. I see you don’t have dental insurance.”

“No.” Another lie, but another way to avoid leaving behind a paper trail. “I’d still like to discuss cosmetic options with Dr. Westly, though. Veneers in particular.”
 

The receptionist raised a brow. She looked over her shoulder, then back to him. Lowering her voice she said, “But you have such lovely teeth.”

“Thank you, ma’am. But they’re not for me.” Michael paused when a sharp bark of laughter caught his attention. He peered around the corner and immediately recognized Dr. Brian Westly from his website photo.
 

Dressed in a lab coat, button down shirt and corduroy trousers, Dr. Westly escorted a patient toward them. The dentist nodded to the receptionist. “Linda, Mr. Bailey got off easy today. Two fillings. I still want to see him in six months. Got it, Frank?” he asked his patient and softened the harshness of his tone with a wink.

When Frank Bailey leaned over the receptionist desk and peered at her calendar, Dr. Westly turned to Michael. “New patient?” He offered his hand, then a conspiratorial grin. “Or latest victim?”
 

The irony of the dentist’s words made him laugh out loud. Michael wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans, then shook the man’s hand. “I’ll stick with patient, Dr. Westly.”
 

And leave being the victim up to you.
 

Chapter 6

“What the hell are you doing here?” Hudson asked Owen Malcolm as he entered CORE headquarters.
 

“Good to see you, too, bro,” the former Secret Service agent replied with the hint of a smile. “Haven’t seen you in months, but I’m glad to see you haven’t lost that sparkling personality I’ve always admired.”

Hudson brushed past him and headed to the evidence and evaluation room. “Whatever.”

Owen caught up with him and fell into step. “You’re being a serious dick here.”

“Not just a dick, but a serious one? Interesting.”

Owen chuckled. “Annoying, more like it. What’s with the attitude?”

Hudson pushed open the door and immediately noticed Rachel, perched over a computer keyboard and gnawing on a pencil. “Why aren’t you in California?” he asked with more vehemence than he’d intended. Everyone who worked at CORE knew Ian Scott was a calculating son of a bitch. Hudson knew it wasn’t Owen’s fault that Ian had lied about the other man’s current case or whereabouts. Still chapped his ass anyway. Owen could have been assigned to babysit Eden and deal with the sick bastard making DVDs. Instead, Ian, once again, manipulated the situation knowing he and Eden had had a relationship with a bad ending. Why? He hadn’t a clue. Since he’d joined CORE, Hudson hadn’t been able to gain a good read on his boss.
   

“Just got back. But I won’t be staying long.” Owen looked to Rachel as he started to follow him into the room. “Hey, Beav, that pencil taste good? I think I’ve got a wooden ruler in my desk drawer if you’re interested. Better yet, I’ll just pry off the leg of a chair and—”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Owen looked between Hudson and Rachel. “I’m starting to get a complex.”

Rachel dropped her chewed pencil on the desk and stood. She shot her lower lip out in a pout. “So sorry if I hurt your widdle feewings,” she mocked Owen, then gave him the finger.

“A serious complex,” Owen said. “You two mind explaining the problem? Hopefully it won’t take too long. I’m leaving for Nevada in about four hours.”