“Really?” she asked in disbelief. She hadn’t realized it, but Mark was right. Greg was manipulating her, or trying to, as he always had in the past.
“Yes,” he said, with amusement in his voice. “Really. Now, let’s get the heck out of this heat, and get this meeting over with.”
Lindsey grabbed his arm, deciding his good mood needed to be utilized to the fullest degree. He turned back and looked at her in surprise. “Since you are taking things so well and all,” she said with a pause, “there is this tiny other thing.”
Mark shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“I interviewed Elizabeth’s boyfriend.”
Mark’s eyes went wide. “What? On your own?” She nodded. “Do you know how dangerous that was?”
Lindsey cringed at his tone. “I will say, as much as I hate to admit it, the owner of the Pink Panther was pretty creepy.”
“You went to the Pink Panther?” he asked incredulously.
She nodded.
Throwing his hands up in the air, he said, “I give up.” Then he grabbed her hand. “Tell me about it later. We need to get this meeting over with.”
Lindsey and Mark stepped into the Carrow’s lobby at exactly eleven-thirty. Two men moved towards them. The one who seemed in charge was stocky, with brown hair and eyes. He also lacked good manners. Not bothering with hello, he eyed Lindsey and said, “Damn if you don’t look just like the victims.”
Mark bit back a harsh retort. He might be paranoid, but Lindsey’s resemblance to the victims bugged the hell out of him. Mark watched the man’s face as Lindsey responded to him. “Yeah, well, it’s coincidence.” But it bothered her, he could tell. Her face was etched with tension, her body stiff.
The man snorted and shoved his hands into his worn jeans pockets. “A damn spooky coincidence.”
Lindsey’s voice held irritation, thick and unhidden. “I won’t introduce myself, since clearly you’ve figured out who I am.” She waved a hand towards Mark. “Kevin Woods meet Mark Reeves, an associate of mine.”
Mark shook hands with the man, who then motioned towards his partner, a tall, lanky man with curly black hair who appeared nearer forty than thirty. “This is my partner, John Conner.”
A few minutes later, greetings aside, they sat at a table, a round of coffee ordered, but no food. Once the waitress filled everyone’s cups, Kevin narrowed his gaze on Lindsey. “I did some checking on you, Lindsey. You’re that attorney who handled the Hudson case.” His tone was accusing.
Lindsey leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, her face cool and composed. “I didn’t know Hudson was known in Nevada.”
Mark didn’t care how they knew about the case. “What’s the point?”
John interjected, “His point is that we did some digging. There are similarities in the victim profiles of Hudson, your new client, and our perp. We are all about solving this case, but we also want to know who we’re dealing with and what their motives are.”
Kevin made a face. “A connection is unlikely. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t trying to make one. Hudson was convicted with DNA evidence. Are you trying to save your name here, Lindsey, or catch a perp?”
Mark felt the heat of anger, quick and hard. He kept his tone low, but it reeked of his frustrations. “That’s out of line. We’re trying to save lives here. Are you going to help us or not?”
“I care about saving lives, not my name,” Lindsey said, as if Mark hadn’t spoken. “And just in case you don’t get how the legal world works—I won my case, and that makes me look damn good. What the guy did or didn’t do after doesn’t impact that job.” Kevin stared at her, his face flushed with the heat of anger. Lindsey continued, determination in her voice. No way was anyone speaking until she was done. “And that’s exactly why I joined the FBI.” She paused and let the words sink in. “I’m here to catch a murderer, plain and simple. If you want to do the same, then let’s get down to business. If not, let’s stop wasting each other’s time.”
Kevin’s temper had noticeable declined. “I’m just trying to make sure we all have the same agenda. Nobody wants this guy more than me. I saw the bodies with my own eyes. I know what he’s like, what he does to his victims.”
Lindsey’s eyes filled with shadows. “You’re wrong. I want more.” Something about the way she said the words silenced the table. For long moments, no one so much as blinked.
Kevin broke the silence, shifting in his chair as if he couldn’t take it anymore. “You’re pretty certain they’re all connected, aren’t you? That your Hudson guy is innocent?”
Lindsey met his gaze with a direct stare. “As you said, there’s DNA evidence against Hudson. That’s hard to beat.” She paused, and then added, “Unless it was planted.”
Mark looked at her with surprise. This was the first time he’d heard this theory, though he thought it made damn good sense. John sat his cup down, leaning forward as if he had already considered her theory. “It could have been planted. I was thinking that on the way over here. I had a case last year . . .” He waved off the words. “Bottom line, it could be a plant. What was the DNA source?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and exchanged a knowing look with Mark, as if she wanted his silent approval.
“There’s no way you could,” Mark reminded her.
She nodded. “I know.” She refocused on the other two men, explaining, “I dropped out after Hudson was charged with the final attack. I never saw the DNA evidence.”
John reached for his cup. “Find out if it was hair, because it’s damn easy to plant. If it is, then it’s a whole new ballgame as far as I’m concerned.” He took a drink. “Okay, let’s backtrack. If the cases are connected, then our perp is now in Manhattan, or at least was recently, right?”
Mark nodded. “Yes, but if it’s the same guy, he’s smart. Williams was picked up, and he dropped out of sight.”
Lindsey cleared her throat. “I did a calendar tracking of all of the attacks yesterday. The timelines support one attacker.”
“That’s all the more reason why we need to play connect-the-dots with you guys,” Mark said deliberately, pleased with Lindsey’s sharp actions.
John turned his attention towards Mark. “I know who you are too. You’ve gotten a lot of creeps put back on the street.”
“Not this again,” Lindsey said. “I though we established we are all on the same team here?”
Her eyes met Mark’s and he could see her apprehension. But she didn’t have anything to worry about. He didn’t let guys like these get to him. Mark shrugged. “You know the saying, don’t throw stones if you live in a glass house.” He paused for effect. “I inherited a lot of bad field work and I’m obligated to do my job.” Mark’s meaning sliced through the air, though his tone was nonthreatening. He was reminding them that police errors set a lot of bad guys free. “I hate what we have to do for the system sometimes as much as anyone else, but I respect what the principles are built on. Just as I am sure you do.”
Lindsey looked at Mark, appreciation in her eyes, before she switched her attention to the entire table. “I believe we can help each other, but we need to be on the same team. Is that possible?”
A waitress appeared and started filling cups. Kevin took a drink of his, and then said, “We all want the same things.”
Mark could tell from Lindsey’s face she wasn’t happy with his response. After a long pause, Lindsey asked, “All of your victims went to the University of Las Vegas, right?”
Kevin nodded. “Right.”
“Any common classes or professors?” Mark asked.
“No, none,” Kevin said, setting his cup on the table.
“What time of day were the bodies found?” Lindsey asked.
“All late night, early morning,” Kevin said.
“Alcohol in their blood?” Mark asked.
“Yes.” Kevin frowned. “Explain that question.”
“Just wondering if a bar could be the connection,” Lindse
y explained. “We think it might be in New York.”
Kevin’s brows sunk as if he was afraid they had missed something. “We never found that kind of connection.”
“What about boyfriends?” Mark asked.
“Nope,” Kevin responded. “No steady ones, at least.”
Lindsey had pulled out a notepad and was going down a list. “Evidence on the bodies?”
John spoke up. “Yes, same pattern on all. Rope burns on the arms, a few other similarities between victims.”
Lindsey stared at the tablecloth in deep thought. All eyes were on her strained face. Mark sensed some transition in her mood. She was bothered by something. He decided to save her a response. He cleared his throat, and responded for her. “That sounds like our guy’s pattern.”
“Got pictures?” Kevin asked.
“Yes, we do,” Mark commented, but didn’t reach for them. “What I don’t understand is why the Williams cases weren’t linked through the national system.”
Kevin and John eyed each other. Mark noted the exchange with interest. They knew something. After a pause Kevin said, “We think the same thing. Look, why don’t we finish up our coffee and go back to the station? We can compare notes.”
Mark and Lindsey looked at one another and then nodded their agreement.
They rode to the station with the detectives, which left Mark with no feasible opportunity to pry into Lindsey’s head and figure out what she was fretting about. Once there, they were taken to a room holding a couple of folding tables and a wall of whiteboards.
As soon as they were alone, Mark exhaled, relieved to finally get a minute with Lindsey. He walked to her, his hands going to her arms. “What’s up, sweetheart?”
She glanced at him, eyes guarded. “What do you mean?”
Mark winced inwardly. She had already shut him out again. What in the hell was it going to take to get by her walls? “You know what I mean,” he said deliberately. “You clammed up at the restaurant and have stayed that way ever since. What’s bothering you?”
She shrugged her shoulders, diverting her eyes to the floor. “Nothing.”
“That’s crap and we both know it, Lindsey,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t shut me out.”
The door opened, effectively silencing their conversation. “Here we go.” Kevin held up a stack of pictures and then walked to the whiteboard and began taping them up. Lindsey opened her files and pulled out two stacks of pictures, and without a word stood and started to tape them up as well. She put the Hudson pictures on one row, even though only one of his victims was dead, and the Williams pictures on another.
When everything was in place, they all stood, in utter silence, staring at the horrific sight. It was as if evil had visited the room and was now alive and well. Lindsey wrapped her arms around her body, hugging herself as if she was cold. And as he let his gaze move back to the pictures, he couldn’t blame her. The sight before them was gruesome, the images showing obvious torture and violence. This guy had made these women suffer.
Kevin cleared his throat. “Damn,” he said. “I’m afraid this is bigger than we thought. What a sick bastard.” Then he exchanged a look with his partner. “Better get Bill.”
Mark tore his eyes away from the pictures and looked at Kevin. “I take it Bill’s your boss?”
He nodded. “He’ll want to see this,” Kevin said, looking back at the pictures as if still astounded by the magnitude of the scene.
Mark gave Kevin a steady look. “Tell me again how these attacks were dismissed as unrelated.”
Kevin leaned against the wall and crossed his arms in front of his body. “Well, now, that does seem to be the million-dollar question, doesn’t it?”
Lindsey made a frustrated sound that drew their attention. “Yes, it is. Who’s going to answer it?”
Mark glanced at Lindsey with concern. Anger had returned some of the color to her cheeks, but it was clear she was a ball of nerves. He wanted to grab her, and comfort her. But he knew he couldn’t. Not here, not now.
Best to focus on catching a killer.
* * * * *
Stepping into the hotel, Mark by her side, Lindsey couldn’t sake her thoughts of Greg. No, that wasn’t completely true. Something else was bothering her. It seemed when it came to Hudson, she was damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.
Had she just believed in herself, and him, in the past . . . well, a lot more than one woman was now dead because of her mistakes. She had been so freaked over the woman she thought Hudson had killed that she allowed herself to get off track. Now many more women were dead.
Her biggest failure had been to doubt her instincts.
But she couldn’t go back, and that was hard to swallow. All she could hope for was to save the victims of the future.
Mark unlocked the hotel door. “What an afternoon,” he said.
“It didn’t surprise me the local guys blame the missed connections on the New York officials and vice-versa,” Lindsey said.
Mark shoved open the door, and motioned Lindsey forward. “I doubt we’ll ever know the truth.” Entering the room, a burst of cool air washed over her skin, making her sigh with the sweet relief of being out of the heat. Lindsey couldn’t shake the feeling that Greg had somehow been behind it all.
She made a direct path to the bed, falling onto the mattress with a bounce. “I am so exhausted, it’s painful.”
Mark toed off his shoes, and walked over to Lindsey and took hers off. “Yes, but we accomplished a lot.”
Lindsey leaned up on her elbows. “Do you think we made the right decision, agreeing to keep this quiet?” She studied him, her voice full of concern. “Shouldn’t the public know there might be a serial killer on the loose?”
He spread out on the bed, and turned to face her, resting on one elbow. “I do,” he said, meaning it. “He’s in hiding right now, and we can’t risk letting him know we’re onto him.”
Lindsey’s put her hands under her head, staring up at the ceiling. “I suppose that’s true.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. “What happened today? Why did you get upset?”
She rolled to her side, facing him, fingers fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “Nothing, I’m just tired.”
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before refocusing on her face. “As I said,” he paused a beat, “we both know better.”
Mark slid closer so that his thighs brushed her leg. Watching her distress, he traced her bottom lip with his index finger. “What’s wrong?”
Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks. “I don’t think I can talk about it right now.”
He was silent a long moment, his hand slowly moving to rest on her hip. “I won’t press you,” he said, and then he did just what he said he wouldn’t do. He pressed. “I’d like to think you’d trust me enough to share what’s bothering you.”
Lindsey wet her dry lips, and cleared her throat. It was hard talking about her feelings. She wasn’t used to it. But she found herself wanting to find the courage to tell him. Her voice cracked, but the words made it past her lips. “So many women are dead.”
Mark pulled her closer. “Please, don’t do this to yourself,” he said. “You’ve beat yourself up enough.”
Even though she knew he was right, she couldn’t quit blaming herself. The pictures of the victims wouldn’t leave her mind. “Why didn’t I think of the DNA being planted back then?”
His voice was a soft echo of reason. “It was a tough call. You were ready to be out. Besides, you handed over the case.”
She squeezed her eyes together. The images just wouldn’t go away. “I might have stopped so many women from dying.”
Mark leaned down and pressed his lips to her eyelids, one at a time. “A big maybe, Lindsey. Stop doing this to yourself.”
A large teardrop rolled down her cheek, and Mark wiped it away with his thumb. “I would have dropped Hudson, too.”
Her eyes popped open. “You would have?”
“Hell
yes,” he said. “In two flat seconds. No hesitation. And I wouldn’t have questioned his guilt after that final victim was killed. I would have assumed it.”
She touched his cheek. “Thanks for saying that.”
“Don’t thank me for telling you the truth.”
She swallowed hard. “I have to catch this guy.”
“Catching the killer is not your job,” he pointed out in a tight voice. “Giving Williams the best defense possible is.” His expression was tense, his tone demanding. “You’re too close to this.”
Lindsey didn’t want to argue with Mark, but she also wasn’t going to agree to do his bidding. “And that can’t be changed.”
“Lindsey—”
Her hand cupped his jaw, cutting off his words with her action. She didn’t want to fight. She knew he was worried about her, but if he kept pushing, she was going to fight back. “Let’s drop this for now.” Then, in a lower voice, “Please.”
Lindsey turned and fell onto her back. “I can’t believe we have such an early flight in the morning.”
“We could take a later one,” he offered, his palm flattening on her stomach. “Better yet, let’s stay an entire extra day and just forget everything but you and me.” He closed the distance her move had put between them, his mouth near her ear. “What do you think?”
Lindsey laughed as he nuzzled her neck. “We shouldn’t.”
“No,” he agreed, and then pressed a kiss on her lips. “We shouldn’t, but ask me if I give a damn.”
Lindsey couldn’t stop from smiling. “What about the case?”
His knuckles brushed her cheek. “It’ll be there when we get back. It’s one day, baby. But it will be one hell of a good day, I promise.”
She crinkled her nose. “I swear, you make me lose my good sense.”
Mark smiled. “Is that a yes?”
“I don’t know. It’s tempting but—”
“No buts. You need some play time,” he said decisively. “And we need some time together. We’ll be more effective when we get back.”
“Objection,” she said in her best attorney voice. “Use of closing argument tactics in the bedroom considered out of line.”