The Profiler (14 page)

She met his eyes. “Either that or she’s been on the floor of a carpenter’s workshop.”

Samantha sidled over for a look. “Whatever it is, there’s a fair amount of it. I’ll put it under the microscope, see what we can find out about it. Come and have a look at the shoulder wounds. I’ve flushed them out.”

Ellie straightened and moved further down the table until she stood close to Clayton where he’d stopped near Josie’s hips. Samantha tilted the body onto its side again so they both had a better view.

She pointed with the tip of her scalpel to the wound at the girl’s left shoulder, which was now clean and free of debris.

“If you have a look here, you can see clear striations from the teeth of a saw. It’s the same on the right. And both bones are still full of blood.”

Ellie’s heart sank. “You mean…?”

The doctor nodded, her expression grim. “Her heart was still beating when the arms were severed.”

“Christ, not again,” Clayton muttered, stepping back and running a hand through his hair.

Ellie swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat and tried not to imagine the horrors Josie Ward had endured in the moments before her death. She prayed the girl’s family never found out.

Her eyes burned into Samantha’s. “Do we know if it’s the same one?”

“The same saw you mean?”

“Yes, if it’s the same one used on Angelina Caruso.”

“I’ll have to make up some slides and compare them microscopically, but I’m hoping there aren’t two madmen out there cutting limbs off women while they’re still breathing.”

Clayton pulled viciously at the expensive tie around his neck in an effort to loosen it as he paced back and forth across the room. Ellie could see he was struggling to keep his anger under control.

He swung around and pinned Samantha with eyes that were dark with emotion. “How soon can we have the results?”

“The slides can be prepared overnight. The wood shavings might take a little longer to identify.”

Impatience and irritation flared in the blue depths. “What about the material found under Angelina’s fingernails? Do you have any results back from that?”

Her brow creased in a frown. “Not yet. We had to outsource it. Our budget’s tight and—”

“We need those results.” His tone brooked no argument.

“I’ll chase it up.”

“Yesterday isn’t soon enough.” He turned and strode out of the room.

* * *

The sun’s
orange-red glow had completely disappeared over the horizon and the night’s winter chill had set in when Ellie caught up with Clayton outside the morgue. The tension in his body was still evident as he leaned against the squad car and waited for her. Despite the dimness, designer sunglasses shaded his eyes from her view.

“It’s not her fault, you know.” She frowned at him as she unlocked the car with the remote and climbed in.

A moment later, he slid in beside her, pulled off his shades and sighed. “I know. I guess I should go back in there and apologize. It’s just that I feel so responsible. And at the moment, I’ve been about as useful as tits on a bull.”

His eyes were bleak when he turned to her. “I’m being paid the big bucks, as you so eloquently put it, to find this monster. All I’ve managed to do since I got here is to count the bodies.”

His frustration and feelings of inadequacy became almost a tangible presence between them. A wave of sympathy washed over her. She wondered briefly about his past. Had someone he’d loved met with a violent end? Was that the driving force behind him?

He interrupted her musings with a hard stare. “Don’t go feeling sorry for me, Ellie. That’s not what I need. Chew me out, tell me what an incompetent, ineffectual, over-paid bastard I am, but don’t feel sorry for me.”

Her eyes narrowed on his face. “All right, but remember, you asked for it. “You’re one of the most incompetent, ineffectual, inadequate, completely over-paid, arrogant, egotistical
Feds
I’ve ever met.”

A reluctant grin tugged at his lips. “You don’t hold back, do you?”

She offered an unrepentant shrug. “Why should I? You’ve been here nearly a month and as you just admitted, all you’ve really done is help with the body count.”

She turned on the ignition and put the car into gear, checking her mirrors before pulling out into the heavy, peak-hour traffic. Flicking him a glance, she continued.

“You offered a reasonable possibility in the guise of Wayne Peterson, but after ten minutes with him, even I could tell he wasn’t our man. Stewart Boston’s still at the top of your list and by this time tomorrow, maybe we’ll have all the answers we need.”

She drew in a breath. “In the meantime, I don’t want to hear you bemoaning the fact that you’ve ridden in on your white charger and in all the time you’ve been here, you still haven’t managed to solve the mystery or win the girl.”

His gaze slid over her in a slow inspection, paying extra attention to her heaving chest. The heat rose in Ellie’s cheeks. “Um, that was meant in the metaphoric sense, not the literal one.”

His grin was lascivious. “I know what you meant.”

She turned away and kept her concentration firmly on the road in front of her. She needed something to keep herself occupied. If the conversation continued in its current vein, things could turn dangerous. She had no arsenal against those emotion-filled eyes. Not to mention the broad shoulders, narrow hips and impressively taut butt.

Oh, yes. Even through his tailored suit pants, she’d noticed his butt.

“What do you say we go and grab a bite to eat? It’s been a long time since that bagel and coffee I had for breakfast.”

She shot him a look of disbelief. “Breakfast?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, I got busy reviewing the case material and forgot about lunch. Then with the house call we made and the call out…” He shrugged.

She mulled over his suggestion, buying some time by concentrating on the passing traffic around them. Sharing a meal with him was probably not the wisest thing she could do right now. Her hormones were reminding her it had been way too long since she’d been in the company of an attractive man and everyone knew it was suicide to get involved with a work colleague.

Was she really contemplating an on-the-job fling? Because of course, that’s all that it would be. He lived in Canberra. It would never work. It couldn’t work. And yet…

“It’s just dinner, Ellie.”

Fire seared her cheeks. She bit her lip, grateful that the night had settled in enough to conceal her burning face. For goodness sake, what was she? A teenager?

“I know that,” she managed. “I was thinking about the case.”

“Liar.” His voice was soft, caressing in the darkness.

She stole a peek and fell into the teasing light of his blue eyes. Her heart picked up its rhythm and suddenly oxygen was in short supply.

He was so close.

Too close.

Not close enough.

“Okay, let’s do it.”

His eyebrows rose and she blushed again.

“W-what I mean is, let’s have dinner. We’ve got to eat, right? We might as well do it together and we can go over things for tomorrow. Boston lands a little after ten in the morning. It wouldn’t hurt to review our game plan.”

Clayton nodded, his eyes glinting in the streetlights as they passed.

“Sure. Good.” His lips turned up into a cheeky grin. “Your place, or mine?”

Keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the road in front of her, she found herself stumbling on a reply.

“I-I really need to go home and take a shower. After all that’s gone on today, I couldn’t bear the thought of eating in these clothes.” She took in the wrinkled suit and blouse.

“They still look pretty good to me, but I know what you mean.” He checked his watch. “How about we meet in the city about seven thirty? That’s not too far away from your place, is it?”

“No, I’ve got a unit over at Darling Harbour. I’ll catch a cab.”

His eyebrows rose again. “Darling Harbour? That’s pretty swish.”

“Early inheritance.”

He whistled in appreciation. “Sounds like my kind of family.”

She laughed as images of her mother and father came to mind. Having made a fortune on the stock exchange in the nineties, her parents had cashed in well before the crash in 2008. They owned a luxurious apartment overlooking the harbor at Point Piper, among several other lucrative investments and had felt the need to share their good fortune with their only child.

Ellie had never bothered arguing with them. Not that she’d ever been spoilt in the traditional sense. As a child, she’d been raised to be thankful for all that she had and to give generously to those less fortunate.

And it just went to show, all the money in the world didn’t shield you from heartache and tragedy. She felt a pang of loss at the thought of Jamie.

“Hey.” Clayton’s voice was soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry if I offended you. I was trying to be funny.”

She forced a wobbly smile. “No offence taken. And it was kind of funny.”

A look of mock-hurt contorted his features. “Only kind of?”

She chuckled. “Okay, it was pretty funny.” She spared him a wry look. “My father would have found it hysterical.”

“Sounds like we’d get on famously.” He grinned and her heart did a somersault.

Get a grip, Cooper. You’re not sixteen
.

She negotiated a lane change and continued to silently castigate herself. Once again, he seemed to read her mind and diverted her feverish thoughts with another question.

“So, this is your town. Where should we go to eat?”

CHAPTER TEN

The iconic shape of Centrepoint Tower loomed over the city
skyline, illuminated by golden lights. Clayton had met her in a cab outside her apartment. Upon Ellie’s request, the cab driver had dropped them off at the entrance to the Pitt Street Mall. Her heart beat with anticipation as they drew closer. She’d called and made a reservation the minute she’d dropped Clayton off at his hotel.

He was a visitor to the city she loved and she wanted to take him somewhere special. She had to remind herself it was not a date, but nevertheless, she wanted to surprise him and let him see the city of her birth at its glittering best.

Besides, after all that had happened with their case and the little or no progress they’d made, she was in the mood to drown the mounting frustration with a good merlot.

Knowing how difficult it was to get a reservation at the revolving restaurant, she’d been relieved and excited when the maître d’ informed her of a cancellation and accepted her last-minute booking.

It was still early evening, and although the winter air was crisp, small pockets of people wandered through the mall window shopping, talking, laughing. A few late-working business professionals strode past hurriedly with smart briefcases in tow, looking as if their thoughts were on making the next train.

Ellie eyed Clayton with appreciation. He wore a crisp white dinner shirt and tailored black suit pants. A matching jacket hung from his fingers. For the first time since she’d met him, he was without a tie and the top few buttons of his shirt had been left undone, giving her a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, male skin.

There was something about a well-dressed man that did it for her. With his tousled, shower-damp hair and deep-blue eyes with their hint of sadness, he couldn’t have looked any sexier.

And the feeling seemed to be mutual, if the admiration warming his gaze was anything to go by. Heat crept into her cheeks every time his gaze swept over her simple but stylish black crepe dress. Its low-cut neckline emphasized the fullness of her breasts and the cinched-in waist held by a jewelled butterfly brooch at her hip accentuated her curves.

Becoming flustered by his thorough perusal, her three-inch heels caught on a crack in the pavement and she stumbled. His arm shot out and grabbed her elbow, preventing her from taking a fall.

“Careful, partner. You might do some damage. I’d hate to see you break a leg and leave me with all the driving. I’ve kind of gotten used to being chauffeured.”

Her face flamed and she looked away. His fingers were warm on her arm. It seemed every nerve ending was acutely aware of the feel of his skin on hers.

She gritted her teeth.
For Christ’s sake, Cooper, get a grip. It’s his fingers. Just his fingers.

Those fingers tightened when she surreptitiously tried to pull her arm away. Knowing to tug any harder would only draw attention, she tried to act as nonchalant as he was.

They passed under a streetlight and she caught the reflection off a heavy chain that hung around his neck. A gold ring rested against his chest. It looked like a wedding ring, but he’d said nothing about a wife. And it wasn’t on his finger.

She shelved her curiosity, determined to enjoy the evening. Surely, if he was married, he would have said so. He seemed way too honorable to be the cheating type.

“So, where are we eating?” he asked, glancing around him with an air of casual interest.

With the pressure of his hand burning her skin, Ellie suddenly regretted her impulse to take him to Centrepoint Tower. The place was way too formal, way too expensive, way too intimate to take a work colleague.