Temperature Rising (20 page)

Laken was relieved when Mac finally agreed. Through she wished she could stay with him, she really was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to get some sleep. Sleep that wouldn’t be plagued with nightmares of death.

It was still another half hour before Mac walked Laken to Connie’s car, helping her inside, going so far as to do up her seatbelt before pressing her back into the seat with one final hard kiss.

On the other side of the car, Jones gave Connie a kiss. “It’ll probably be almost morning before we get there. We want to stay for the questioning. Get some sleep.”

“We’ll be okay,” Connie assured him, dropping into the seat.

Laken clearly saw the intensity in Mac’s eyes. He looked at her as if debating letting her go.

“Go.” She smiled reassuringly, and waved him away. His gaze remained on her a moment longer before he closed the door.

Beside her Connie laughed. “You just got to love protective males. They are just so cute.”

A rush of agreement burned through Laken as she watched Mac stare after them until they turned the corner.

The Jones’ house was quaint, a bungalow style in a middle-class neighborhood that screamed of family.

“This is beautiful,” Laken commented as she followed Connie in.

“Thanks. Just make yourself comfortable. It was a fixer-upper when we got it. The person had really let it run down so we got it for a song. Mac’s put in a lot of hours helping us work on it. It’s nice to see him find someone, especially after the shooting. We’ve been worried about him, especially how he’d take the forced retirement.”

“He’s going for a teaching position at a university.”

“I heard. I think that’s great.”

Laken shifted as warmth coursed through her. “Mac asked me to marry him.”

Connie let out a squeal and hugged her. “Oh, my. I presume you said yes?”

“Yes.” Laken about burst with renewed excitement. “You don’t think it’s too soon?” She wondered what her new friend would say, though she seemed happy.

“With Mac? No way. Mac is one of those men who knows what he wants. Besides, I’ve seen the way he is with you. You hit him hard from the very first. I was worried when Marcus first told me. He was real worried because Mac fell hard for a fruitcake. But after meeting you — you guys are perfect together.” Connie gave her another hug.

After a cup of hot chocolate and girl talk, Laken settled into bed in the spare room, at Connie’s insistence, and let sleep come to her through the lingering thoughts of Mac.

****

Mac was at the point he wanted to slam his fist into the wall. He looked at the man who sat sniveling in the chair. No way he was the Hunter. He might be a back-stabber in the business world, but he couldn’t use a knife on a woman. He was the type who broke into apartments and took out his rage, frightening a woman that way because he couldn’t face the confrontation directly.

At first, Mac hoped it was an act, but it didn’t take long to give up on that. The man was drunk. The killer wouldn’t allow that mistake. The killer was cold and ruthlessness. Stewart Hoster was a selfish prig who thought nothing of stealing an underling’s work to cover his own inabilities.

This was a waste of time. He wanted to get back to Laken. The desire was past wanting. He needed to get back to her. If Hoster wasn’t the killer, that meant he was still out there. The knowledge burned in him, and he tried to tamp it down. There was no way the Hunter could know where Laken was. She was safe.

“It’s all her fault,” Hoster whined again. Mac had lost count of how many times he’d said those words. It was the same thing over and over again, almost word for word. “They fired me because of what she did — that grandiose show of hers of handing over the blueprints. Saying how he deserved the best and hers were the best. She staged it all to show us up. I’d given her a chance, getting her designs even considered. She should’ve thanked me. Warner never even would’ve considered showing her plans. It’s all like he said. It’s all her fault.”

The “he” caught in Mac’s mind, snapping his attention to alert again.

“The ungrateful—” the man continued.

“Who said?” Mac snapped, cutting over Hoster’s next tirade. The man jerked, forgetting what he was saying. “What man?” Mac took two steps toward Hoster, startling him back to soberness. Jonesy also came alert, pulling close.

“The g-guy… in the b-bar,” Hoster stammered out.

“What guy?” Mac demanded, the unease in him shooting to fear.

“I don’t know. Just a guy.”

“Where’d you meet this guy?

“At the bar across from the Fun Center. I already told you I followed her there then went into the bar. I was upset. She got me fired. He understood backstabbing females. They’re all worthless, trying to compete with their betters.”

“Did he say that?” Jonesy picked up the questioning.

“Yeah.” Hoster looked at him. “He knew what it was like to lose a promotion to a woman who sleeps and steals her way to the top, then walks over you to get what she wants.”

The urge to hit the guy surged again, but Mac tamped it down. “Laken didn’t sleep her way to the top and you’re the one who stole from her.”

The man still had enough soul to look embarrassed. “She stole the future account, ruined things with Galaxy. It’s still her fault.”

Mac ignored what he said. “Describe this guy.”

Hoster raised his head, obviously surprised by the request. It took him a second and Mac repeated the question before he answered. “A little taller than me, dark hair, but not black. Brown. Twenties, maybe thirty, I don’t know. He was just a guy. I don’t look at guys.”

“And you didn’t ask his name.”

Hoster shook his head. “He just got me a couple drinks and talked. He knew what it was like.”

Mac could see Hoster slipping back into his moaning again and was done with it. Fear flared to life. He needed to get to Laken. He was out of the room, Jonesy at his side without a word. They’d been partners too long for him to have to say they were heading to the garage. There was also no need to tell him that, if the man had been at the bar across from the Fun Center, it meant he had either followed them or Hoster there and he could possibly have followed Laken and Connie home.

Mac felt like a fool for not seeing a tail. He fingered Laken’s cell phone in his pocket. One of the officers had found it on the floor in the golf room and handed it over to him after she’d left. He pulled out his phone and dialed. “This is Detective MacDaniels, I’d like a unit to do a drive-by for possible intruder at…” he gave Jonesy’s address as he climbed into the passenger seat. Jonesy had the car headed out of the garage before he hung up. He made the next call to the captain to fill him in as Jonesy sped through streets which were, fortunately, mostly empty that time of night.

****

The
Hunter moved from shadow to shadow, irritated at the little, yappy dog barking three houses over.
If the thing didn’t shut up he was going to go slit its throat.
He froze when he heard a door open and the owner of the dog yelled out, calling the animal inside.
Finally, it was quiet.
Still,
he waited several minutes before moving toward the house that held the two women.
He didn’t care about the one.
It
would be of
no consequence
if
she died, but the other had to die so it would all be right.
He could feel her now that he was closing in.
Yes, it would finally be right.

****

Laken fought the covers as she tried to fight the dream from coming. He was hunting. She could feel the exhilaration in him. His thrill ran hot, like the temperature that coursed through her body. He skirted the house, pulling back in the shadows behind a huge trunk tree when a car came down the street. It pulled into a driveway halfway down the block, and a teenager wearing a fast food uniform got out and ambled into the house.

Kids and dogs should not be seen or heard.
The thought hit Laken’s mind, and even in the sleeping state, she rejected it. She liked kids and dogs. She wanted to get a dog when she had a place where she could have one. Maybe after she married Mac…

Mac smiled at her coming out of the shadows. He stopped, spun, searching the area, alert, like he had when they left the garbage, watching everything. He came toward her striding purposefully then stumbled, his leg going out from under him. Laken tried to run to him, but her legs were too sluggish to move. She ran harder, faster, but Mac seemed to get farther away. She cried out, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

Out of the shadows between them stepped another figure, the dark raincoat and hat pulled down making him a living shadow. She slid to a stop as he came toward her. Laken looked into Hoster’s face. And then it wasn’t his. It fell away into nothingness, a gaping blackness that tore at her soul. The Hunter turned and looked at Mac, and she knew he was going to keep her from ever reaching him. The Hunter was going to deny her love and life with him.

“No!” she screamed. She would not accept that. She fought harder to run. She had to get to Mac. She wouldn’t let the Hunter win.

“You think you’re better than me.”
The words cut in her mind like a slashing knife. Laken stumbled and fell. Pain ripped at her.
“Women who think they are as good as men don’t deserve to live.”
The Hunter stalked toward her.
“When I kill you, all will be right again.”

“No!” Laken lashed out with her hand. Real pain cut through the dream, but instead of pulling back from it, Laken clung to it, feeling it move up through her arm. She brought her hand to her lips. Her skin felt hot. She pushed the fever and the throbbing in her head down. “No.” The next scream made it past her lips and Laken jerked awake. Her heart pounded and heat radiated off her. She raised her hand to rub the side of it where it felt like it was bruising.

Laken heard footsteps in the hall and nearly fell in her haste to get out of bed. The door to her room opened but instead of the shadowy form of the Hunter, the hall light illuminated Connie, dressed in a short nightgown, much like the one she was wearing.

The woman’s eyes darted from the bed to her. “Are you all right?” She sounded breathless, maybe from being abruptly awakened.

Laken let her shoulders slump in relief. “Yes, sorry, bad dr-dream.” Laken faltered over the word and knew it wasn’t right. “No. He’s here,” she gasped, tasting the Hunter’s anticipation in the air.

“He is? You mean the killer?” Connie visibly relaxed. “It’s all right. They’ve arrested him. They have him at the police station now.”

“No!” The word erupted from her with certainty. “Hoster’s not the Hunter. He’s here.”

“Hunter?” Connie looked startled.

“The killer.”

“He’s here?”

“Yes.” The blast of fear hit her almost overwhelming her, but she pushed back.

“Laken.” Connie shook her head obviously fighting her own internal battle to accept what Laken was saying. “How could he be here? There’s no way he could know where you’re at.”

“I don’t know, maybe he followed us,” Laken said over her shoulder, searching her clothes for her cell phone. “But he’s here. He’s close. Where’s my cell phone? It was in my pocket when we were bowling.”

She threw the hoodie aside and grabbed her pants. The phone wasn’t there. “Where’s your phone?” She took a step toward Connie and staggered.

“Are you all right?” Connie reached to steady her. “You’re burning up.”

Laken shook her head to clear it, concentrating a second to push the Hunter back from her mind. For an instant, she could see through his eyes clearly, his hand holding a spade, using it to pry a box from the side of the house. “The phones, he got the phone. Your cell phone. We’ve got to call Mac.”

She headed past Connie, who followed her out of the room, obviously not sure what to think. Probably rethinking her sanity, the thought hit Laken, but she didn’t have time to think about that now. “Where’s your cell phone?”

“I… I think it’s in my purse. But there’s a phone right here.” She lifted the phone from the wall at the end of the hall. “If you want to call Mac…” Her voice died out as she pulled the phone away from her ear and stared down at it like it was a foreign object. “It’s dead.” She looked at Laken, totally stunned.

The air filled with shocked silence only to be scattered by faint scratching at the back of the house. Both women jerked and spun in the direction.

“He’s here.” This time it was Connie that cried the words.

“Do you have a gun?”

Connie was already shaking her head. “I’m not good with guns. Marcus keeps his with him.”

“Come on.” Laken grabbed her hand pulling her the front of the house. “Where’s your purse?”

“Closet, by the door.”

“Connie, we need to split up,” Laken whispered as they moved. “You need to hide. It’s me he’s after. He won’t go for you.”

“We need to stick together. We’re stronger together.” Connie, now in motion, pushed in front of Laken, pulled open the closet door, and grabbed a large black bag from the top shelf. Instead of sticking her hand in to search, she upended it, dumping out the contents on the floor. The light from the hall glistened off the objects. Connie snatched up the phone and punched nine-one-one.

Laken held her breath waiting for the call to be answered. At the sound of a dull thud from the back door, Laken spun with Connie to look. The light coming down the hallway highlighted a three-foot-long, odd-shaped bag leaning against the back corner of the closet. Stepping past Connie, Laken grabbed the bag, pulling it out. With a quick jerk of the zipper, Laken pulled the heavy aluminum baseball bat free just as Connie spoke into the phone, giving her address then repeating it.

“There’s someone trying to break into the house. We think it’s the man stabbing women. My husband is Detective Marcus Jones. He’s on the case, and I have a witness in the case here with me.” There was a pause. Laken was impressed by her calm when she continued. “Yes, that is correct. There are two of us. He’s trying to get in the back door.”