Текст книги "If Looks Could Kill"

Автор книги: Heather Graham

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

She saw shadows, but within the shadows, two lovers, intimately entwined with one another.

She couldn’t really see the people, and she had the awful feeling of intruding on something that was not just intimate but warm and special. She could see that…

The woman was a redhead.

She wasn’t watching them through her own eyes, she realized.

Strange words ran through her mind.

Killer is watching, Killer is watching….

The vision faded suddenly.

All that remained was the memory that the woman was a redhead.

And the words…

Killer is watching, Killer is watching…

They kept repeating, a refrain that haunted her mind. And she knew that no matter what argument they might be having, she was going to have to tell Kyle what she had seen with her strange mind’s eye.

9

Madison smoothed her hair, collecting herself and ignoring the others as they argued over where they should go for dinner.

The voice and its haunting refrain faded completely, and Madison began feeling rather silly. She was frightened, yet not in a tangible way. She was surrounded by people; she was safe.

Hell, she even had her own personal FBI agent following right behind the van in his rental car.

She realized that Jaime was staring at her, frowning with concern. He had left the decision of where to go to Hector and George, who had agreed on a rustic crab house near Sloppy Joe’s.

“You all right?” Jaime asked her as he helped her out of the van. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine, honest.”

He suddenly reached forward, pinching her cheeks. It hurt. “Jaime!” she protested.

“That’s better! You don’t want the government asking the same question, do you?” he queried, arching a brow devilishly.

She started to protest again, then shrugged. “Do I look better?”

“Ah, Madison, you look stunning! If looks could kill, you’d be lethal! Come on now.”

He linked an arm with hers. And though the place was crowded, he had the right pull. They were quickly seated.

She had expected that Kyle might feel awkward at dinner, being a stranger to everyone but Madison, but he actually seemed more comfortable than she did. Everyone knew about his father’s upcoming gallery opening, and their enthusiasm for Roger Montgomery’s work and commitment, were contagious. Madison, relaxing, forgot the strange sensation of being watched that had seized her earlier. The restaurant was boisterous, but not too loud. The company was very pleasant, laid-back.

Kyle was even being merciful and not hounding her about the fact that she had left town without telling anyone. In fact, he assured her early on during dinner that her father knew she was going to be at his house; Jordan Adair had talked with Darryl that afternoon. Then Michelle diverted his attention, but Madison didn’t care. She was finally beginning to unwind. The company and drinks were numbing her mind. Even memories of her vision were fading. Then, as they talked, she was startled to hear a pleased squeal from across the room. With an alarming feel of dismay, she watched as a petite dynamo hurried across the room to them. Sheila.

“Madison! What a lovely coincidence! And Kyle Montgomery. What a pleasure.”

“Sheila, what a surprise!” Madison said helplessly. Kyle pulled out a chair for Sheila, and Madison introduced her to the others. “Sheila plays keyboards with the Storm Fronts.”

“Yes, of course, your delightful musical group!” Jaime said with pleasure. “I’ve seen you play with Madison, but we have never been formally introduced.” He kissed Sheila’s hand in greeting.

Sheila was delighted. “Naturally, I know your work, as well! It’s spectacular!”

“You’re too kind,” Jaime protested. “Well, now and then, we all have a stroke of genius, sí?”

“Sheila, we’d love to have you stay with us,” Madison said. God, she was lying through her teeth! And Sheila was a friend! “Of course, we’ll understand if you’re here with friends.”

“What luck! I was here celebrating my sister’s birthday, but she and her husband—and even Mom and Dad—have just left.”

“What luck,” Madison agreed.

Sheila joined them, advising them on the local beers. Madison hadn’t planned on having anything with alcohol, but now she changed her mind. The fresh catch was dolphin, which they ordered for the table, along with a shrimp-wrapped-in-bacon appetizer and conch chowder.

The conversation turned first to music, then to art. Madison, at her end of the table, far from Kyle and Sheila, listened as Kyle avidly joined in the discussion. She watched him, thinking about how he so seldom let others see his own talent. But beyond that, it seemed that he really did love art and had a greater appreciation for his father’s interests than she had ever imagined.

He caught her watching him once. And it was a strange moment, because she knew that he was reading her thoughts, but somehow that made him strangely vulnerable to her.

A nice switch, she thought.

Conversation was easy. They all laughed. Madison felt comfortable, relaxed, secure.

It was inevitable, though, that someone would ask Kyle about his work.

“I read about some of your work once in Time,” George said. “Can you tell us what you’re doing down here? Is it that serial killer the papers have been writing about?”

“Well, we definitely believe we have a serial killer on the loose in the area,” Kyle said solemnly. “Most of the recent developments will be making the late news tonight. Like my breaking into Madison’s house,” he added dryly.

“What?” she asked, startled.

He shrugged, looking around at the others again. “Over the last four months, there have been four gruesome murders, all occurring around the fifteenth of the month, and each growing more and more violent. The victims were all young, beautiful, vivacious women. When you’re working with something so heinous, you have a tendency to worry about the people around you.”

“Dear Lord,” Sheila murmured, leaning an elbow on the table and propping her head on her hand as she looked at him. She shuddered fiercely.

“And…you broke into Madison’s house in pursuit of this killer?” Michelle demanded, confused.

Kyle shook his head, smiling ruefully. “As I said, this killer is preying on young, beautiful women. I couldn’t get in touch with Madison last night, and then…when I couldn’t reach her this morning, either…” He lifted his hands helplessly, then took a long swig of his beer, staring at Madison again. “Her lock was easy to pick, but she has a good alarm system. I’d told Jimmy Gates down in homicide that I was going in, but…well, I almost got myself arrested anyway, and I’m wondering right now just how ridiculous I’m going to look on the news.”

“I didn’t answer my phone, so you broke into my house?” Madison said incredulously.

“Madison, you shouldn’t be so snippy!” Sheila advised her.

“Sheila, I’m not! I’m just surprised.”

“Thank God you’ve got a stepbrother who cares so much! If someone in my family couldn’t reach me, they probably wouldn’t worry for a week!”

Kyle arched a brow to Madison, obviously enjoying the fact that her friends thought she was the one in the wrong.

“Sheila, you’re always going off for days at a time,” Madison reminded her.

“Well, you still shouldn’t be angry!” Sheila said.

“Are you angry?” Hector demanded, grinning at Madison. He looked amused, out to cause trouble.

Everyone was staring at her. She stared at Kyle, gritting her teeth. “Of course not. I told you—I’m not angry, I’m surprised.”

“Surprised! I’m scared. A serial killer, preying on young women!” Sheila said, and shivered.

“A little fear can be healthy, I’m certain,” Jaime said.

“Do you agree, Kyle?” Michelle asked in her soft singsong. “Is it smart for women to be afraid?”

“A little fear can be very healthy. The police weren’t exactly trying to keep the killings quiet, at first, but they didn’t want to cause a panic, either. But as of this afternoon, it’s been officially decided that it’s time to cause a bit of a panic. From comments made to friends by the victims, we’re certain that the killer is a charming young man who is seducing his victims into believing they’re in for the love affair of a lifetime. He’s most probably very good-looking, blends in with a crowd, appears entirely respectable. Not in the least the image of a crazed killer. So, Sheila, you should be concerned. It would be wise for you to be very careful.”

“You know,” Hector murmured, “if you’re curious about the news…Well, it’s gotten late. Maybe they’ll have the eleven-o’clock news on at the bar.”

They stared at one another briefly, then rose in one body, moving to the bar. Kyle remained slightly in the background. As the news moved from the latest terrorism in the Mideast to local-interest stories, a police spokeswoman giving a press release appeared on the screen. She said that the police believed that they were investigating four murders that were the work of a single killer, and that young women needed to be seriously on the alert, especially women, and women living alone.

Listening, Madison found herself worrying about Jassy. She told herself that her sister was smart. Besides, she still thought Kyle might be the man her sister was seeing, and if so…

She was going to call Jassy. She had to make sure her sister knew what she was doing.

She blinked. The news was still centered on the killer. There was an interview with Jimmy Gates, who gave out the information that friends of the victims had told police that before each disappearance, the murdered young women had been looking forward to time away with a new romantic interest.

Then there was suddenly a shot of Kyle. He was in his suit, in front of Madison’s house. There were police cars everywhere. Kyle looked worn and very aggravated—but still handsome and appealing. He was shown talking with Jimmy as Jimmy arrived at the scene, then he spoke briefly with the press, recommending that women in the area be advised to use extreme caution in accepting any invitations. “Don’t go out with strangers. Period. Even if you think you know someone, double-date. Don’t go anywhere without a friend knowing your exact destination and who you’re with. Leave work in groups, shop with a girlfriend.”

“Should women be armed?” a pretty reporter asked anxiously.

“If a woman is going to be armed, she needs to know what she’s doing with a weapon, period. A gun is never a guarantee of safety. Bear in mind how many children have been killed with a family gun. To me, the best way to stay safe is to stay smart and cautious.”

“What about women living alone?” the same reporter queried.

Kyle had been solemn; now he suddenly smiled. One of those rare smiles of pure charm that sent hearts racing. “Well, if possible, move back home for a while,” he suggested.

“Good idea!” someone called.

“And if that’s not possible, the main thing here is to be smart, be careful and don’t make yourself vulnerable.”

There were more questions, coming faster and faster, like bullets themselves.

Kyle answered tersely, especially when he was asked why he was at the home of Madison Adair, daughter of the slain movie star, Lainie Adair, his onetime stepsister.

“In fact, sir, didn’t you just break into her house?”

“Were you arrested and handcuffed?”

Kyle fielded the questions well, ignoring what he chose to ignore and replying that—naturally—any man was concerned about the young women in his family under these circumstances. Yes, he admitted, he had been worried about his stepsister, but he had since been advised that Madison Adair was fine and away working on a fashion shoot.

Madison noticed that he didn’t say where.

When he excused himself and walked away from the interview, the camera focused on the pretty newswoman who had hit him with the most questions. She had done her homework well. She rehashed Lainie’s murder and “scandalous” life, then brought up Madison’s work, her resemblance to her mother and her occasional involvement with the police. By the time the newscast was finished, Madison wanted to sink into the floor.

At the same time, she felt like an absolute ingrate, certain that the news hadn’t managed to capture the entire event. Kyle had nearly been arrested for breaking into her house, all because he had been worried.

About her.

She looked back at Kyle, who shrugged irritably. “At least they missed the fact that I was nearly shot as an intruder before I had a chance to flash my ID.”

“Thanks for worrying,” she murmured. “And I’m sorry. I guess, under the circumstances, I should have called Jassy or Dad before taking off, as well as Darryl.” She sighed with weary exasperation. “That damned newswoman! She didn’t miss any of my life. We got to go through my mother’s death all over again.”

“Ah, child!” Michelle commiserated.

“They showed your house—right on television. Can’t you sue them for that or something?” Sheila asked.

“I don’t think so,” Madison murmured. “I don’t think it matters, anyway. Where I live has never been a big secret.”

Kyle was staring at her. He wasn’t pleased. From his look, she knew he was thinking that it probably hadn’t mattered before if her address was publicly known.

But it did now.

“Well,” Michelle said, “this killer will have to think twice now. With such a warning out, surely young women will be very careful.”

Kyle shook his head very slowly. “If only that were true. If only they all understood the point. This man is extremely clever—and charming. Most rational people feel that such violent murders must be the work of a madman. They’re sure they would recognize such a man, that he must look like a monster, when his real power lies in his ability to appear to be not just respectable, but secure. A protector of the innocent. Hopefully we’ll have alerted at least some of his possible victims, and maybe we’ll slow him down long enough to catch him.”

Michelle shook her head and made the sign of the cross over her chest. Hector followed suit. Madison was tempted to do likewise as she stared at Kyle.

“Oh dear,” Sheila murmured, “what a depressing end to such a wonderful evening.” She stood very close to Kyle, smiling up at him. “I admit I’m afraid to go home alone now.”

“Kyle has a car, he’ll see you home,” Madison said, even though she hated the thought of Kyle driving Sheila home.

Was she protecting Jassy? she thought, mocking herself.

She felt a little sick inside. Jassy was newly in love. If it wasn’t Kyle, could it be…?

Oh, God, she had to talk to her sister.

“That would be wonderful,” Sheila said, staring at Kyle. She appeared so petite, charming and wide-eyed with trusting adoration that Madison wanted to shake her.

“Sure,” Kyle said, staring at Madison. “We’ll take Sheila home before going to your father’s place.”

Sheila looked disgruntled; it wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind. But she acquiesced, and it seemed that she really was somewhat nervous. She livened up, however, on the drive to her house, chatting away with Kyle in the front seat. She talked about being alone and how much she usually loved her independence. “Of course, now…but I refuse to allow an animal like that to ruin my life! I don’t ever want to talk about him anymore. Madison, I hear your father is attending a gallery opening sponsored by Kyle’s father. How intriguing that they remained such good friends.”

“The opening is Sunday,” Kyle told her. “We’d love to have you.”

“Why, I’d love to come with you. Thank you so very much.”

Kyle frowned. “Sheila, I didn’t—”

“Oh, there’s the house, right there. I’ll just run in quickly. I’ve got my key—of course, I’m all thumbs right now. I hate to be such a nervous Nellie, but would you please come with me and just take a quick look around…?”

Madison kept quiet, all but seething in the back seat. Sheila knew damned well that Kyle hadn’t asked her to the gallery opening on a date; it had been a general invitation. But Sheila had stated plainly that she was going to make a play for him, and that was what she was doing.

Kyle parked the car in front of Sheila’s. But he didn’t follow Sheila along the walk. He got out and looked into the back seat, at Madison. “Come on.”

“I’ll just stay here and wait for you. I think she wants a kiss good-night.”

He shook his head, a slight smile on his lips. “Madison, surely you’ve seen enough slasher movies. The guy leaves one girl alone in the car, and, well, you know where it goes from there. I’m not leaving you alone. Come with me.”

“I’m not in any danger.”

“How do you know?”

“I’d sense it.”

He shook his head and was suddenly grave. “I think that’s my main paranoia in all this. I’m really afraid that you won’t sense it if you do become endangered yourself. Besides…”

“What?”

“You might not be in danger, but I am.”

“From…?”

“Sheila,” he said bluntly. “Get out. Come with me.”

“Sheila is just as cute as a button.”

“Yes, she is. Now come on, Madison, get out!” He hesitated. “Please?”

With a deep sigh, she obliged. They walked Sheila to the house, where Kyle managed to explain rather charmingly that he couldn’t actually bring Sheila as his date, since he was obliged to be his father’s gofer for the evening. Sheila promised that she would be there even so, and said that if she could help in any way, any way at all, well, she would be delighted to do so.

They left Sheila’s place and drove out to Jordan Adair’s waterfront estate. Martique was there, sleepily greeting them in the foyer, despite the quiet with which they approached the house. She quickly went back to bed, and they were alone, facing one another, once again.

Madison was going to tease Kyle about Sheila and the way he’d managed to wriggle out of an actual date, but he turned on her like a Doberman.

“Madison, I’m being dead serious, and you’re going to listen to me and pay attention. The news is out. And people will panic. Half the women in Miami will be buying handguns by tomorrow. I just pray that there won’t be any accidental deaths caused by someone who’s frightened and trigger-happy. But I’m telling you, Madison, and I mean it—don’t go off without letting me know again. Me. You made a fool out of me today, and you might have put yourself into grave danger.”

“Kyle! Damn it, I’m grateful, but I didn’t do anything. You made a fool out of yourself. I appreciate the fact that you were worried, but you’re not responsible for me.”

“No? Well, you’re not fit to be responsible for yourself, so someone has to be.” He dragged his fingers impatiently through his hair. “Madison, give me a break here.”

“All right, Kyle, I won’t make a move without your permission!” she muttered sarcastically.

He ignored the sarcasm. “Good,” he told her flatly.

“Fine,” she agreed.

“Good night.”

“Good night.”

She turned around and started down the hallway to her bedroom.

“Madison!” he said, calling her back.

“What?” she asked, turning to him. She felt strangely on fire. They were here, together. Martique was here, too, but she had retired to her own little room out back, beyond the pool. Madison had been living so many fantasies regarding him. She was breathless, frightened, burning….

“Madison, have you noticed something?”

“What?”

He hesitated. “Well, I’ve been gone a long time, but…?”

“Yes?”

“Well, Jimmy usually calls on you not so much because you can feel and see from the victim’s point of view, but because…” He hesitated as she frowned at him. “Sometimes you can see the killer, as well. This time you can’t seem to get so much as a glimpse of the killer. What do you think that means?”

She shook her head, swallowing tightly, because he was right.

“I don’t know,” she told him. “Do you?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t. But it’s curious. And frightening,” he added softly.

“I’m all right,” she said firmly.

He nodded. “You will be. Good night, Madison.”

That time, he turned and walked away from her, down his hallway. She heard the door to his bedroom open…

And close.

She gnawed lightly on her lower lip, then turned and walked the distance to her own room. It seemed like a very long walk.

Filled with shadows.

Kyle stayed up late. He plugged in his computer and modem and, despite the hour, contacted Ricky Haines in Virginia. Ricky didn’t care. His wife was a chemist with the bureau, and they were both dedicated to their work.

Ricky sounded a little sleepy, but he assured Kyle that he had been running information through the computer all day, investigating the records of tattoo parlors and trying to come up with some connection in the lives of the four women killed. “Nothing yet, but don’t worry, we’re on the case. How about you?”

“Yeah, I’m on the case. I’m in Key West right now—”

“Key West?”

“My stepsister is the psychic, remember? I followed her down here on a hunch.”

“Yeah, sure. You know your stuff, Kyle.”

Did he? It hadn’t been necessary for him to leave Miami. He’d just been so disturbed, what with the vivid scene in his nightmare and the fact that Madison didn’t answer her phone, that he had to see her. It didn’t actually fall under business. And if the case began to break while he wasn’t even in Miami…

The case wasn’t going to break that easily. Unfortunately.

“Ricky, there is one thing.”

“What’s that, Kyle?”

“They’re all redheads.”

“Are they? From the one picture—”

“I know, you can’t tell. It just appears that she had dark hair. But trust me, every one of the victims was a redhead.” He thought of his stepmother. “Work that angle for a while, okay?”

“Sure.”

He instructed Ricky to modem the most recent information on the lives of the victims into his PC, then said good-night. He sat for a while, studying the records of all four victims. Debra Miller, Julie Sabor and Holly Tyler had all been single, never married. Maria Garcia had been a divorcée. She’d left behind two small children. Her picture flashed on the screen, and Kyle got a sick feeling, deep in his gut. Sometimes he could be analytical. But sometimes it was impossible not to be human, not to feel the pain.

From what he had, he couldn’t connect the women—except for the red hair. They lived and worked in different parts of town. Their jobs were completely different. Debra had been a Miami native, Julie from New York; Maria had been a Cuban immigrant, and Holly Tyler had been born in Minnesota. All that seemed to link them was the fact that they were all redheaded, young, vivacious and attractive. Maybe that was all, and maybe that was enough.

Kyle rubbed his forehead, thinking about the methods and motives of serial killers from the past. There was usually something about a woman that sparked something in a killer’s mind. What was it? Just the hair, the vivacity? Where was the killer stalking his victims? Bundy had looked to college campuses, assured that he would find plenty of young, beautiful women there. But these women were slightly older, in their late twenties.

He was getting nowhere. And he wasn’t nearly as tired as he wanted to be. He just didn’t want to shower, then lie awake tossing and turning all night.

Worse. He didn’t want to sleep and dream about trying to reach Madison, just down the hallway, and discover the killer lurking between them, his knife glinting in the moonlight.

Still, he turned off the computer and rubbed his eyes. He rose restlessly, then showered. When he’d soaped and scrubbed, he turned the tap all the way to cold. He stayed under the water for a long while, letting his flesh turn icy.

Finally he emerged from the shower and turned out the lights except for the one in the bathroom, which was just inside and to the left of the door to his room. Years of training had taught him to sleep in darkness and shadows while illuminating any possible entrance.

He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t sleep. He opened them and stared up at the ceiling.

He could just get up, and walk down the hallway. No pretense. Just ask her if she wanted to sleep with him.

Too obvious. Oh yeah. Definitely too obvious.

He could just walk down the hallway and tell her that he’d gone for a drink of water, then taken a wrong turn while heading back to his bed.

She was probably sound asleep.

He’d seen the damned vision in his head so many times. He would step into her room, and there she would be. Maybe in a towel, maybe in silk. It wouldn’t matter. Coverings would drift to the floor. We both want this, let’s stop the arguing, let’s do it, get on with our lives, get it out of our systems, maybe…

He couldn’t do it; just couldn’t. He thought that he knew Madison, thought that sometimes, just sometimes, the way she looked at him, the way she smiled when he caught her off guard…damn, the electricity was just there. If they didn’t get to it soon…

He heard footsteps suddenly. Soft, furtive, moving quickly, just outside his doorway.

He tensed, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and reaching quickly into the nightstand for his. 38 special.

His door opened slowly….

She was caught in the gentle light pooling from the bathroom through the partially closed doorway. She stood for a moment, blinded, while he sat in the darkness.

She wore silk.

A long emerald silk robe that clung to her body. Curved with it. Her hair spilled over it like a riot of fire in the night.

She had come to him.