Waking Nightmare (33 page)
He still wasn’t willing to say with any certainty that Larsen had been a target. But he was getting there. “They talked to a few of them, but I’d like to do it again, more thoroughly.”
“How many windows in the spare bedroom?”
He swept his hand up one silky thigh, over her hip to squeeze her butt lightly. She had the sweetest ass. Toned and curved like it had been fashioned to haunt a man’s dreams and scramble his thoughts. It took effort to shift his focus to answer her question. “One, facing the back of the property. Fairly secluded backyard, with a hedge around the east and south sides. A small storage shed sits on the southwest corner.”
“So if this was our guy, why didn’t he use the back bedroom?”
He frowned, not following her line of thought. “Why?”
“With only one window, which faces to the back of the property, he’d be assured of more privacy. He must have realized that the flames would be visible from the street. Unless . . .”
Somehow it didn’t seem strange to be lying in bed with a woman he wanted, discussing a case with her. It should have been. It certainly shouldn’t have felt so natural, so right, to discover that their minds were as much in sync as their bodies were. “Unless what?”
She tipped her head up to look at him. “He doesn’t want his victims to die, does he? Not if their long-term suffering is his end goal. It occurred to me when we went to the Richard ses’ beach house and saw that opened window, the one that alerted the security guard to check the house and subsequently discover Amanda Richards.”
“I’m not following you.” And he didn’t think it was the distraction of her naked curvy little body pressed up against him that had him so dense. At least not totally.
“I did a little checking on the tides for St. Andrew’s Sound. The UNSUB put Barbara Billings in the water at high tide, or close to it. Even then, she was able to avoid drowning by pressing her face to the top of the kennel. The water was only going to get lower for the next several hours. If she hadn’t been discovered by Marine Patrol, she almost certainly would have been by local fishermen early the next morning.”
Ryne was silent for a moment. Since the UNSUB hadn’t killed any of the victims, it was obvious their death wasn’t the guy’s intent. “Yeah, okay.”
“He wants them found. After he rapes and tortures them, the ultimate payoff is the psychological suffering that will ensue. He has to make sure they don’t die before they’re discovered or he doesn’t achieve the purpose of his ritual. Sommers was found by her husband. Knudson investigated Hornby’s house after the alarm clock radio didn’t turn off. It was on maximum volume, right?”
“So, if Larsen is another victim, you think the UNSUB purposefully chose the bedroom with a window in view of the neighbors so they’d call the fire in. Pretty risky. What if they had been sound sleepers?”
She scraped her nail lightly across his nipple and he flinched a little. When he saw a smile cross her lips, he could be fairly certain it hadn’t been accidental. “I think sometimes he might hang around in the vicinity to make sure discovery takes place. If it hadn’t, he would have brought attention to it some way himself. He doesn’t want them dead. He isn’t going to go to all that trouble and have them die on him.”
Ryne smiled grimly. “So he must have been pretty pissed when he found out about Hornby’s suicide.”
She nodded. “It would have incensed him. He would have felt . . . cheated in some way. And as I said before, it would accelerate his cycle of choosing a new victim.”
He didn’t need the reminder that they were running out of time. The twist had likely chosen his next victim already. He agreed with Abbie on that. It was probably only a matter of days before he struck again. The news accounts recently would mean the women of Savannah were more aware of the dangers, but they couldn’t count on that to stop the guy. He was too smart. Had been too damn lucky so far. And the leads they had so far weren’t going anywhere fast enough to make him certain they would catch him in time. The certainty lay like lead ballast on his shoulders.
He could be sucked under by that knowledge, let it weigh him down and eventually destroy every shred of judgment, until he second-guessed every decision and allocation of manpower. Or he could use it to hone his determination. To focus his attention and do his damnedest to stop the perp in time.
He stroked a finger over the pulse that beat slow and steady at the base of Abbie’s throat. The only absolute in police work was the folly of allowing a case to consume you. A cop had to take a step back once in a while to keep his instincts alert. Casual sex could be an easy way to accomplish that, but there was nothing casual about the way he felt about the woman beside him. And worrying about that just might distract him from the inner darkness that sometimes threatened to swallow him.
Abbie tilted her head and kissed him, slow and languid. As if they had all the time in the world to explore what was between them. And for a moment, he could almost believe they did. He took the kiss deeper and felt the kick to his system as desire arrowed through him. They were pressed together, lips, chests, hips, legs, and her soft warmth beckoned like a promise.
He could think of no better way to forget the pressures of the case than to steep himself in her. Ryne closed his teeth lightly on the delicate cord of her throat, and she shuddered against him. He wanted to spend the night exploring her, finding every sensitive spot on her body where lingering would have her moaning and quivering beneath him. But his intent was thwarted a moment later when she pushed him to his back and slid down to take him in her mouth.
His vision abruptly grayed. The soft moist suction was enough to smash his intent to go slow. It was enough to smash
all
conscious thought to hell and back.
all
conscious thought to hell and back.
His fingers threaded through her hair as he endured the sweetest kind of torture imaginable. The rest of the world faded to include only the two of them.
He endured the torment for long moments, until he doubted his ability to last any longer. With his hands on her shoulders, he urged her up, snaked an arm around her waist, and hauled her closer, sealing his mouth against hers. There was a careening in his blood, a primal beat that throbbed for this woman. Now. Right now. Without releasing her, he reached out his free hand and felt for the foil packets he’d left on the night table. And cursed when he instead knocked the empty food container to the floor.
The sound of Abbie’s husky laugh was like a match striking flint, and his passion flared hotter. Wilder. He didn’t recall a woman who could get to him faster, make him forget the best intentions in his hunger to have her. Now. Fast and hard and the hell with the precautions.
It was finally Abbie who got the condom out of the packet, rolled it with excruciating slowness over the thickness of his cock. And then, when he didn’t trust himself not to pull her beneath him and take her with a senseless savage urgency, she lowered herself on him, one hand on his shoulder and the other wrapped around him to guide him into her hot depths.
Ryne could feel the sweat beading on his forehead, the blood pounding in his veins. Senses were unbearably sensitized as Abbie took both his hands in hers, linked their fingers, and pressed them against the pillows on either side of his head.
It was heaven and hell. The slide of her skin against his, her taut nipples grazing his chest as she rode him, slowly at first, and then faster as her own desire took over.
Sensation slapped against sensation, too fast and wild to be identified. There was the slippery hot feel of flesh on flesh, the sound of her gasps, of the groan ripped from him. Because he had to see her, he dragged his eyes open to look into hers, to watch as passion turned them the shade of fog.
Her hips pumped a quicker rhythm, and a steel bar of desire tightened in his gut. His muscles went taut. He surged upward, driving himself deeper inside her, trying to get closer. She filled his vision, his world, as the ferocious battle raged over them, between them. And then she leaned forward to press her mouth to his, and passion snapped abruptly, wiping his mind, his senses, clean.
And when he exploded, he thought of nothing but her.
“You need to lighten up,” Callie advised, inhaling deeply from a cigarette. “All work and no play makes Abbie dull, dull, dull.”
With effort, Abbie maintained the smile on her face, while repeating to the waitress, “You can take my plate. And I don’t want another beer, thanks.” She looked at her sister after the woman shrugged and cleared the table. “I’ve never developed much tolerance for alcohol. If I had more than one, I wouldn’t be able to drive home.”
“Did I tell you about the Maserati I drove in Paris last month?” Callie picked up her beer and tipped it to her lips without putting the cigarette down. “I’ve never been much for cars, but Jesus, that one was fast. Took a half a minute to get it up to a hundred.” She laughed, loudly enough to have several people looking their way. “What a blast.”
“I thought it was Greece.”
“What?”
“I thought you said before you were in Greece.”
The other woman shook her hair back impatiently. “This was before Greece. Pay attention.”
Abbie
was
paying attention. Had been since Callie had surprised her with a call about the time she and Ryne had been leaving work. He’d actually suggested leaving early—it was Sunday after all—to show her a few of the Savannah sights. She’d anticipated talking him into one of the haunted history tours that explore the city’s eerie past.
was
paying attention. Had been since Callie had surprised her with a call about the time she and Ryne had been leaving work. He’d actually suggested leaving early—it was Sunday after all—to show her a few of the Savannah sights. She’d anticipated talking him into one of the haunted history tours that explore the city’s eerie past.
Most of all, she’d looked forward to just being with him, without work or sex—however incredible it may be—shading their interactions. But the phone call from her sister had effectively put their plans on hold.
She hadn’t heard from Callie since she’d shown up unannounced at her house, and she’d been in a constant state of unease worrying about what she was up to. Callie’s sudden invitation to dinner was all the more surprising for its apparent normalcy.
But the more time she spent with her sister, the less likely it appeared there was anything normal about Callie’s behavior.
“Abs, look at that guy over there. No, over there. He’s totally checking you out.”
Abbie flicked a glance in the direction of the loner nursing a beer at the corner of the bar. “He looks like someone minding his own business to me.”
“No, you know who he looks like?” Callie snapped her fingers. “Like that older brother of the Fentons’. The second, no, the third foster family. Remember them?”
Abbie did. The couple and their family had been simple people, and particularly ill equipped to deal with a rebellious teen and her traumatized sister. After Callie had run from that home, they’d been removed again, but she and Abbie had never been placed in the same family again.
But it wasn’t the Fentons occupying Abbie’s attention at the moment. It was her sister’s frenetic state. “Do you have a supply of meds with you, Callie?” She watched her sister’s expression close down, but continued doggedly, “Because if you don’t, we should call Dr. Faulkner. You’re cycling again. You have to recognize it.”
“I don’t need to be doped up or to have my mind shrunk.” Callie ground her cigarette out in the ashtray with short vicious stabs. It was already filled with half-smoked stubs. “Can’t I even be happy to be with my sister without you wanting to call in the white coats?” She lit another cigarette, puffed, and then blew out a thin stream of smoke. “And the reason I quit going to Dr. Faulkner was because he wouldn’t stop hitting on me. Got to be a drag.” She narrowed her gaze at Abbie. “Wanted me to do him on the desk and reenact playtime with dear old dad. Said it would cure me. So I walked out and saved five hundred dollars an hour. Cured myself.”
Abbie kept her gaze steady even as her throat dried. Leveling accusations of sexual abuse at people in authority, or those who tried to help her, was yet another of Callie’s self-destructive behaviors. She’d accused two foster fathers, a social worker, and a teacher. Now Dr. Faulkner. “If that’s true, it should be dealt with by reporting him to the police. To his licensing board. It’s not a reason to forgo therapy and meds altogether.”
For a moment she thought her words would bring on one of Callie’s explosive tantrums. Her sister drew in an outraged breath, fingers clenched on her glass. It could, at a moment’s notice, go hurtling through space. Then a moment later she burst out laughing.
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