Rylan grimaced. “Sounds like a real charmer.”
Griff clicked to the next page. He’d expected information on the trial. Instead, there was an official form from a court-appointed psychiatrist.
“He was found mentally incompetent to stand trial.”
“What happened to him?”
It took a few minutes to search through the file and discover Josh Lucroy’s final destination.
“He was put in an institute.” Griff paused. He felt a tug of recognition. Something to do with the first man found. “Wait,” he muttered, pulling up the search he’d done on Archie Darrell.
“What is it?” Rylan asked.
He quickly read through his notes, locating what had been teasing at the edge of his mind.
“The man who was found dead in the house with the first women was put in an institute as well.”
Rylan laid a hand on the desk as he bent sideways to read the screen.
“The same one?”
Griff cursed beneath his breath. He’d leaped to the conclusion that it would be the same institute. Which would mean they could narrow down possible suspects. Perhaps even find a connection to Carmen.
Of course, that would have been too easy.
“No,” he growled, his voice harsh with frustration.
Rylan gave his shoulder a squeeze. “There could still be a connection.”
With an effort, Griff sucked in a deep breath and released it with a low hiss. Now more than ever he needed to keep his emotions under firm control.
“True.” He concentrated on his computer, sorting through his programs until he found the one he wanted. “I’ll run a search to see if the two had any contact before they were put away, and then I’ll find someone I can talk to at the hospitals. They might have a way to trace any correspondence he sent and received.” He was struck by a sudden thought. “Plus, I want to know if they found anything that might relate to Carmen in his room.”
Rylan sent him a curious glance, but before he could ask why the man should have information connected to Carmen, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.
“Jaci?”
“No. My contact at the California Bureau of Investigation.” Rylan frowned as he rose to his feet and pressed the phone to his ear.
Griff surged out of his chair and watched his friend as he paced toward the window. Five minutes later Rylan ended the call and turned back, his expression grim.
Griff clenched his hands at his sides. “Did they find something?”
“Yeah.” He walked back to stand next to Griff, his voice pitched low enough it wouldn’t carry. Clearly, he didn’t want Carmen to overhear if she happened to be awake. “They just finished investigating a suspicious fire.”
“On the beach?”
“On a dune, just twenty miles south of here,” Rylan corrected. “Which is why they didn’t see anything or anyone until too late. They were concentrating their efforts closer to the ocean.”
A nausea rolled through his gut. They were too late. Again.
“Bodies?” he demanded.
Rylan nodded. “Three women and one man. They’re too badly burned to know more than that.”
Griff drummed his fingers on the desk. They hadn’t been exactly on the beach, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that the victims had been burned. The killers had copied the Morning Star, just as they’d feared.
So, did that mean they were about to move on?
About to track down a copy of Carmen’s book, Griff froze. He’d been too focused on the fact that the killers had already struck to chew through the few facts they had.
“Wait,” he murmured. “You said there were three women and one man?”
Rylan nodded. “That’s what my contact said. I’m not sure if they’ve fully processed the scene, so I guess it’s a possibility they might find more bodies.”
Griff didn’t think so. He was beginning to see the pattern.
“They went from five women to four women to three women,” he said.
Rylan hesitated before he realized what Griff was saying. “Right. And each time a man was shot through the head and left with the bodies.”
“It sounds like some weird cult,” Griff muttered. “They kill women and then themselves.”
“And the cult is growing smaller,” Rylan pointed out, abruptly squaring his shoulders. “I want to take a look at the crime scene.”
“Can your buddy get you past the local police?”
Rylan’s lips twitched. “You know me well enough to realize that a few cops aren’t going to stop me.”
Griff glanced over his shoulder. “I can’t leave Carmen.”
“I’ve got this,” Rylan assured him.
“Thanks, Ry.”
He shrugged. “It’s what partners do.” He started across the room only to halt and turn back to face Griff. “After I leave I don’t want you to open the door until I get back,” he commanded. “I don’t care if it’s someone waving a badge. Whoever is doing this has managed to kill twelve people and move across the country without getting caught. They’re smart, and they’re organized. I don’t want you becoming the next victim.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t trust anyone,” Griff assured him, following his friend out of the study and to the front door. He waited there as he watched Rylan slip into his rented car and drive away.
Only then did he close the door and lock it.
Rylan was right. Whoever was responsible for the killing spree was either incredibly smart or lucky. Either way, he wasn’t going to take any chances.
Pouring himself another mug of coffee, he wandered back to his study and tried to concentrate on scouring for more information on the two men who’d been identified. They had to offer some clue to the killers.
Unfortunately, he found it increasingly difficult to keep his thoughts from straying to the woman who was currently sleeping in a room above him.
He didn’t want to disturb her. Not after her restless night. But he needed to assure himself that she was safely tucked in his bed.
Strolling to the back of the house, he was struck at how quiet it seemed. Odd. He’d lived here for years, and he’d always felt comforted by the peace that shrouded his home. Now he realized that he’d already become addicted to hearing Carmen’s bright chatter and the sounds of her moving around his house. And the scent of her lemony soap lingering in the air.
The thought that she might eventually disappear and leave him alone in his silent house was enough to make his heart squeeze with dismay. He didn’t want the silence. Or the illusion of peace.
He wanted Carmen.
In his life. And in his home.
Reaching the master suite, he eased open the door and stepped inside. He frowned, coming to a startled halt. He’d left the room shrouded in shadows. Now the French doors had been pushed open to allow the morning sunlight to spill across the empty bed.
Carmen was awake. And instead of coming to find him, she’d chosen to walk in the garden.
Weirdly hurt, Griff headed onto the balcony and down the staircase. His head might tell him that it was perfectly reasonable for Carmen to want to spend time in the beautiful morning air, but his heart wanted her to jump out of bed, anxious to be with him.
Juvenile, but true.
He headed down the flagstone pathway, and his steps quickened as his gaze swept the garden. Where was she?
He didn’t think she would leave the yard alone. Even if she was frustrated by her inability to be a part of the hunt for the killer. She was stubborn, not stupid.
He reached the end of his property and circled toward the side of his house. It was possible she preferred the shady terrace. In his haste, he didn’t notice the sound of the side gate being pushed open, or the man who strolled up the paved walkway. It wasn’t until a male voice interrupted his increasingly frantic search that Griff realized he was no longer alone.
“Morning, Griff.”
Glancing to the side,
Griff came to a grudging halt. His neighbor was a tall, lanky man with a thick mane of silver hair. Dr. Randall Gregory had been a plastic surgeon to the stars for over forty years before retiring and moving away from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood.
Now he was like Griff. A man who just wanted to live his life without people poking their nose into his business.
Which made them perfect neighbors.
“Randall.” He smoothed his features to a polite smile. “Have you seen the young woman who’s staying with me?”
The man’s heavy brows rose at the unexpected question. “Not this morning. Has something happened?”
Griff shrugged. “Just wondering if she’d wandered out here. I was about to make breakfast.”
“Oh.” The man gave a lift of his hands. “I can’t help you. I just came out myself.”
“Okay. Thanks.” On the point of turning away, Griff was halted when the man spoke again.
“Hey, I was going to ask if you got your alarm system fixed?”
Griff froze. “What?”
“The security firm you asked to come check your system was here a couple days ago,” Randall told him.
“I wasn’t home a couple of days ago,” Griff reminded the man.
“Yeah. The man came over and said that you told him that I had a key,” Randall said. “I didn’t tell anyone I had a spare to your place, so I assumed you must have sent him.”
“You let him in?”
“Yeah.” Randall frowned, a hint of worry settling on his tanned face. “Did I do something wrong?”
Griff wanted to screech in fury. Instead, he forced himself to find out as much information as possible.
“What do you remember about the man?”
“He had on a uniform from a security company.” Randall looked defensive. “I assumed you must be having trouble with your alarms.”
Griff balled his hands into tight fists. He’d never gone into details about his business or the fact that he was the owner of one of the top security firms in the world. Which meant he would never, ever hire anyone to screw with his high-tech equipment. Now his dislike in casual chitchat was coming back to bite him in the butt.
“Do you remember the name of the security company?”
Randall furrowed his brow, searching his memory. “Residential Alarms,” he at last murmured. “Or something like that.”
“Did you see what he was driving?”
“Just a plain van. White.”
“Christ,” Griff breathed.
“Is there anything I can do?” Randall called out as Griff spun on his heel and ran at full speed back into the house.
Griff ignored his worried neighbor as self-disgust blasted through him. He was considered the premier security expert in the world. His talents helped to protect America from terrorist attacks. But he’d been outmaneuvered by one of the oldest tricks in the book.
Jerking out his phone, he dialed 911.
Then he called Rylan.
Chapter Twenty-One
December 28, California
After a year spent traveling from one hotel room to another, Carmen was used to waking up and not knowing exactly where she was. Usually she’d roll onto her back and slowly allow the memory from the day before to fill in the blanks. Eventually she’d figure it out.
This morning it wasn’t nearly so easy.
For one thing, she was lying on a hard floor instead of a bed. And despite the gloom that surrounded her, she could tell that she was in a vast space, not an expensive suite.
With a small groan, she lifted a hand to press it against her aching head, trying to pinpoint just what had happened.
She remembered being in Griff ’s bed. His arms had been tightly wound around her as she’d finally fallen to sleep. And then...
Nothing.
She struggled to clear her oddly fuzzy gaze, her confusion only deepening as she focused on the ceiling high above her.
There were a few rays of sunlight that peeked through narrow windows. The rays caught the speckles of dust that danced in the hushed air, and allowed her to catch sight of the heavy iron beams that served as rafters. The sort of beams that were only used in industrial buildings.
Certainly not expensive hotels.
It took longer than it should have, but at last her confusion mutated into fear.
She didn’t exactly know how she’d gone from the comfort of Griff ’s bed to being stretched out on the hard cement floor, but she did know that she was in danger. And that she had to escape.
Sucking in a deep breath, she sorted through the fog in her brain. Her first instinct was to leap to her feet and flee in terror. A smart decision, except for the fact that her limbs felt like they were filled with lead.
Her second instinct was to close her eyes and pretend that she was still unconscious. Playing dead worked for possums, didn’t it?
But almost as if to prove that she couldn’t run, or hide, the sound of soft footsteps echoed through the silence.
Fear clogged her throat, making it hard to breathe as she forced herself to turn her head. At first she was distracted by the huge stacks of wooden planks that were neatly piled on steel racks throughout the vast, open space. On the far walls were square sheets of plywood and tall posts that didn’t fit on the shelves.
It was some sort of lumberyard, she inanely decided. Or warehouse.
Which explained why the place smelled like the inside of her mother’s hope chest. A musty cedar odor that was almost overwhelming.
Carmen frowned in confusion. Why would her kidnapper bring her to this place? And why was it empty?
Her confusion only deepened when a slender form appeared from behind one of the long racks and she caught sight of the man strolling toward her.
She easily recognized the thin face and pale blue eyes. Her heart skipped a beat, her mouth dry.
“Ronnie?” she breathed, feeling as if she was in a dream.
Or a nightmare.
A smug smile curled his lips. He was dressed in jeans and a chunky sweater that emphasized his wiry body. Not that Carmen was fooled. He could easily overpower her.
She laid her palms flat on the cement and pushed herself into a sitting position. She grimaced. It felt like her brain was sloshing around in her skull.
As if sensing she was incapable of rising to her feet, Ronnie squatted next to her. She caught the scent of smoke. As if he’d recently been standing next to a bonfire.
An unnerving chill spread through her body.
“Are you surprised?” Ronnie demanded.
She licked her dry lips. Surprised? Stupefied came closer to the truth.
Ronnie Hyde. The son of her family’s housekeeper. The strange, silent boy who was always sneaking around the house.
Was he mixed up in this madness? Was he one of the killers? It seemed impossible.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will,” he murmured, his words spoken as a promise. “In time.”
She scooted an inch backward. It wasn’t an attempt to escape. Just a need to put some space between her and the man who looked like her childhood friend, but had grown into a stranger. A dangerous stranger.
“Where am I?” she demanded, the words coming out as a croak.
“At a Jacobs warehouse.” His pale gaze swept over her, a muscle twitching at the base of his jaw. As if he was struggling to suppress an emotion that was so big it threatened to engulf him. “I thought it was an appropriate setting for our reunion. And it has the added benefit of being closed until after the New Year.”
Her brow furrowed. “This place belongs to my uncle?”
“Yes.” His smile twisted. “They managed to use your inheritance to expand the family business. I’m sure they won’t mind if we borrow it for a few hours.”
Fear was a tangible force as it clawed through her, threatening to paralyze her. With an effort, she forced herself to suck in a deep breath.
Panic wasn’t going to save her. She wasn’t su
re anything could, but she intended to be prepared just in case.
“How did I get here?” she asked.
Ronnie shrugged. “I brought you, of course.”
“Why?”
He leaned closer, his breath sour as it brushed over her face.
“Because I wanted us to have some alone time.”
Alone time? She took more deep breaths, her gaze darting to the nearby racks in the hopes of catching sight of some sort of weapon. There was nothing. Predictable, of course. But she was suddenly struck by the empty silence that filled the vast space.
They were completely alone.
“Where’s Griff?” she harshly demanded.
Anger flared through the pale eyes. “He no longer matters.”
Carmen dug her nails into the cement, sheer horror overwhelming her fear. The thought that this man might have hurt Griff was unbearable.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. At least, not yet.” Ronnie shrugged, emphasizing his disinterest in Griff. “If he stays out of my way I don’t have any interest in him. If he tries to interfere then I’ll get rid of him.”
Carmen’s breath hissed between her teeth. Oh, thank God. Griff was safe. That’s all that mattered.
Then, without warning, an unexpected burst of hope exploded through her.
Griff was free. And by now Griff would have to have realized she was missing. Which meant he would be moving heaven and earth to find her.
All she had to do was stay alive long enough for him to work his magic. Right?
The thought was enough to stiffen her spine. At the same time, she subtly pointed and flexed her feet. She needed to get the circulation flowing through her stiff legs in case she needed to run.
“I still don’t know how I got here,” she said.
“Because I happen to be very clever,” he assured her. “I realized after I saw you at Christmas that I could use your relationship with Griffin Archer to my advantage.” He paused, then grimaced. “It interfered in my original timeline, but that couldn’t be helped.”