Текст книги "Tall, Dark and Deadly"

Автор книги: Lisa Renee Jones

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

Moments later, they lay pressed together, limp with the impact of their releases. Reality slipped into place, hitting Lindsey with a rush of emotion. The magnitude of what they had shared was so powerful, it was hard to digest.

Never, ever, had she felt so totally possessed and pleased by a man. The burn of tears in the back of her eyes took her off guard. A wave of panic took hold. Was she falling in love? She didn’t want to be in love. That meant giving up too much. She’d worked hard to find herself. She didn’t want to get lost again.

Turning her face to the side, she tried to hide her tears. Mark kissed her temple and rolled to her side, giving her an opportunity to escape his scrutiny. She sat up, feeling a second rush of emotions, taking a deep breath, willing the tears to go away. But a flood was coming, and she couldn’t stop it.

There was no way to hide her sobs from Mark.

Mark’s arms closed around her from behind. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asked in a tender voice full of concern that only made her cry harder.

Wiping at her face, she tried to gain control. “No, nothing like that. I’m sorry. I swear I’m not like this.”

Mark stroked her hair. “I know, and that’s what’s got me the most worried.”

“I’m,” she sniffed, “fine.”

Mark tugged her into his lap and then moved to rest his back against the headboard. Lindsey gave into the need for more tears and buried her face in his neck and let them roll. So potent was her release, it was as if years of tears had somehow been released. All she could do was cling to Mark, and let them flow.

And he was wonderful, whispering comforting words, and rocking her.

Long minutes later, she accepted a tissue from Mark, feeling calmer, but her eyes hurt and she was exhausted.

“Do you want to talk?” Mark asked, his hand running down the back of her hair.

“I guess a lot things hit me at once,” she explained. “It’s been a pretty emotional month.”

Mark knew there was more to it and he needed to understand. “What was it about our making love that made it all cave in?”

Lindsey ran her hand through his hair. “You scare the hell out of me.”

He knew that, but he didn’t see any reason to say so. Instead, he wanted to understand her feelings fully. “Why?”

“Well,” she said in a shaky voice, “I think I’m beginning to get used to having you around.”

Mark studied her. “And that’s bad because . . . ?”

“Because every time I have ever gotten involved with a man, I’ve felt like the relationship took over my identity. I can’t do that again.” She shook her head and shut her eyes. “I can’t.”

He brushed his lips across hers. “I’m crazy about you. I like your independence, and even how hard-headed you are.” He smiled. “I don’t want you to change. I just want to enjoy who you really are.”

She blinked. “You make it seem so simple.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t think it’s simple at all. The truth is—I’m scared too.” She looked at him with surprise. “I wasn’t looking for this anymore than you.”

Lindsey seemed to digest his words with acceptance. “Thanks, Mark.”

His eyes narrowed. “For what?”

“For understanding. For not pushing me.” She blew out a breath. “For being you.”

Mark pulled her close, his chin resting on her head. “Don’t thank me,” he told her. “Just don’t stop being you.” He kissed her head. “All I want is a chance to see where we are going.” He pulled back, and looked at her. “Is that fair?”

She smiled. “I’d like that too.”

Mark laid down, pulling her into his arms, hoping this was one of many nights he fell asleep holding her.

* * * * *

It was dark, and she was alone. Fear laced her thoughts, made her hands sweat, and her body shake. The shadows danced menacingly around the room, a flash by the window—a shadow that moved. Oh my God . . . a man. It was the outline of a man, and she shoved aside her blankets, frantically kicking them away with her feet as she reached for her gun. But she couldn’t find it.

Where was her gun? She grabbed her purse, feeling frantic, dumping the contents on the bed, searching.

Then suddenly, Mark was there, climbing through the window, going after the shadow of a man. Lindsey panicked and dug harder for her gun, reaching in drawers, under pillows. Giving up, she flung her purse to the ground and ran towards the window, not bothering with a robe. She had to get to Mark.

The window was open and she crawled through, desperation taking hold as she screamed Mark’s name. But he was nowhere in sight. She moved to the fire escape, taking each step with urgency until she jumped into the alley. Still she couldn’t see him. She started running as fast as she could, needing to catch up to him. Her breathing was harsh, labored, and tears were streaming down her face. Where was he? Where was Mark?

* * * * *

“Lindsey.” She heard her name but she didn’t see anyone. “Lindsey, baby, wake up.” Her eyes fluttered. “Lindsey, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

She jerked straight up into a sitting position, her skin damp, and she was wheezing, needing air. Her eyes went to his face. “Mark?”

She felt his arms wrap around her. “Yeah, I’m right here, baby.”

Reality started to return with the sound of his voice. She turned and touched his face, his chest, and his shoulders, needing to know he was here. He was real. A deep sigh of relief escaped her lips. “Oh, God. You’re here. You’re okay.”

Mark grabbed one of her hands and pressed his lips against her palm. “I’m right here. Everything is fine now.”

He pulled her into his arms. “Lay down with me,” he urged gently. Slowly he lowered them both against the sheets. Sinking into his hold, she allowed the safety of his arms to soothe her mind, slowly feeling her breathing return back to normal. After a few minutes, she leaned up and kissed his cheek, so very thankful he was okay, so very appreciative for his comfort.

She wasn’t alone.

“Want to talk about it?” Mark asked, his hand smoothing her hair.

Lindsey rested her head on his shoulder. This time the nightmare had been more vivid, more frightening. And yes, she did want to talk, to tell Mark about it. “I keep having this same nightmare, over and over.”

“You were screaming my name. Why?” he asked, his hand now drawing circles on her arm.

She strained, trying to force her mind to recreate her nightmare. Mark had been there, in the middle of the dread, but not a part of the darkness. “There’s always a stranger trying to get to me, and then you’re there, and I am trying to get to you.”

Mark felt as if he had been punched in the gut. Was this some sort of premonition? They hadn’t known each other long. “When did they start?”

Lindsey’s thoughts raced. “I’m not sure. I think before I met you. But then, how can that be? You’re in them.”

“Maybe you had them before and now that I’m around, I became a part of them.” It seemed logical enough.

She sighed. “Maybe.”

“Rest, baby,” he said kissing her head. “It’s the middle of the night.”

She snuggled closer to him, one of her legs entwining with his. Damn, she felt good in his arms. Within a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep. He lay there, holding her, his mind on everything from the nightmare to the murders. Lindsey made him feel protective from the first moment he met her. With each passing moment, the feeling grew more intense. Her nightmare felt like some kind of premonition. The very thought had him silently cursing himself. Hell, now he was sounding like Lindsey, with all of her instinct and gut-reaction crap. Besides, her nightmares were probably a product of her struggles with the past. Lindsey had torn herself up over Hudson for years.

He stared down at her, nestled by his side . . . so perfect, so needing someone to take care of her. She didn’t think so, but he did. Everyone needed someone, and she was no different. No matter how much she tried to convince herself and the world differently.

He wasn’t going to let her deal with life alone anymore.

Chapter Eleven

Mark woke up to the soft floral scent of Lindsey.

He smiled as he ran his hand down her hair. He was so glad he’d followed her to Vegas. He had always considered himself conservative, the type who would date a woman for a long time before deciding she was the one. Apparently, love didn’t happen that way. It took even the most reserved by storm.

Because Mark knew no matter how many days, weeks, even months passed, Lindsey was the woman for him. It was crazy in terms of how long they had known each other, but it was no less true. No way was he letting her go back to Washington. But she was like a scared deer in the headlights, ready to bolt. One wrong move and she could get spooked.

He could lose her forever.

Lindsey raised her head and peered down at him, her eyes soft from sleep, her voice sultry and hoarse. “Morning, Counselor.”

Their lips pressed together for a quick kiss. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”

“After the nightmare,” she said, “wonderful. I love sleeping with you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. “I love sleeping with you too. I was just thinking I could get used to having you in my bed.”

She laughed and smiled widely, obviously pleased at his words. “You were, were you?”

Mark shook his head. “Sure was.”

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t thinking about how to get me out of your bed.” She poked his chest playfully.

“Never,” he said, his voice serious now.

Lindsey smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, fingers resting in his chest hair. Abruptly, she raised her head, a question in her expression. “Did you bring luggage?”

“It’s downstairs. I need to call the bell desk. I’ll do that and order us some coffee and breakfast.”

Lindsey sat up, freeing him to move, blankets pulled to her shoulders. “Sounds good, but I’m supposed to meet up with a couple detectives for lunch at eleven-thirty. Make it a light breakfast for me, please.”

Mark shot her a quick look. “I’m coming with you.”

Lindsey pushed herself off the bed, letting the blanket drop. She walked towards the bathroom, oblivious of her nakedness. She peeked over her shoulder at Mark. “I know,” she said and then smiled.

Mark laughed, pleased with her response. He was still smiling when he heard the bellman on the other end of the phone. Shoving his feet in his pants, he dialed room service. He’d barely finished his tasks when Lindsey exited the bathroom wearing the hotel robe, with wet hair falling over her shoulders.

He could so get used to her like this, comfortable and happy and, most importantly, by his side.

* * * * *

Lindsey took a quick shower, finding herself eager to join Mark.

It was an odd feeling, considering how used to being alone she was. She found him sitting on the bed, a room service tray in front of him. “That was fast,” she said, surprised that the food had already arrived, but thankful for the blessing of caffeine. “Coffee, please.”

“I made it worth their while,” he said as he reached for the coffee pot and filled a cup for her. Then he patted the bed beside him. “Come sit with me.”

She picked up her cup and let her nostrils flare with the scent. “I love the smell of hot coffee,” she said, then took a sip of the steaming beverage. “I can’t believe I’m not hung over this morning.”

Mark chuckled. “You were tipsy, not sloppy drunk.”

Lindsey surveyed the selection of fresh, plump strawberries, bagels, and cream cheese with approval. “This is perfect,” she said and plucked a juicy strawberry from the tray and bit into it.

Juice dripped down her chin, and before she could get to a napkin, Mark leaned forward and licked it off. “And deliciously messy,” he finished for her, and then leaned back into his former position and picked up his cup.

As if nothing had happened. Lindsey was completely speechless. The intimacy of his action had floored her. He drove her crazy, this man. She eyed him, looking for the source of his power over her. His hair was early morning rumpled, his very nice, defined chest bare for her viewing. He looked casual and comfortable, and too damn sexy to be legal.

Mark looked at her. “What?”

“You’re a very bad boy, Mark,” she said, enunciating every word in a teasing taunt. “You know very well what you just did.”

He met her gaze with wicked mischief dancing in his eyes. “And you’re a very bad girl. We both know how you teased me last night.”

She wrinkled her nose at him and laughed. “Turnaround isn’t fair play in my book.”

“Is that right?” he asked, “I’ll try and keep that in mind.” He smiled and reached for the newspaper. “Want to share?”

She accepted, feeling the odd sense of comfort doing so brought to her. She drank her coffee and finished off her strawberry, sitting beside him, feeling his presence as if it was gold. Lindsey curled her legs under her body and smiled to herself. She’d never felt like this with Greg or any other man. Just being together, even without conversation, felt perfect.

A warm, safe feeling wrapped around her.

Unable to help herself, her gaze kept drifting to his profile. Mark looked up, as if he felt her eyes on him, but she didn’t look away. The paper had dropped to her lap as she had abandoned her covert inspection for a more open one. He offered her a sexy smile. “Now, what are you looking at?”

“You,” she said pointedly.

He grabbed her and pulled her over to his side, wrapping his arm around her waist. He planted a firm kiss on her lips and she smiled with satisfaction. Then she rubbed her hands on his cheek, feeling the morning stubble beneath her soft palms. “You don’t like me like this?” he asked as he touched his own face.

She laughed at the ridiculous idea. “Actually I like you like this. Very much.”

He grinned devilishly. “Oh yeah, how much? Show me.”

“Gladly,” she said as she wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled his lips to hers. Her tongue slid between his teeth, and she heard him moan.

Would she ever get enough of the flavor so uniquely Mark Reeves?

* * * * *

In the back of a cab, Mark beside her, Lindsey knew it was time to make a few confessions. “Mark, about Greg.”

His gaze moved to hers, sharpness to his expression and tone. “What about him?”

Lindsey grabbed his hand. “Hey, take it easy,” she said in a low voice. “I just want to tell you what he said about the case.”

His eyes searched hers a minute, and then he relaxed, shoulders easing, expression less tense. Then, and only then, did she continue. “Well,” she said, “here’s the thing. I don’t think it was such a good idea that I met with him.”

Mark’s eyes darkened. “What does that mean exactly?”

Lindsey looked out of the window as the cab screeched to a halt. “We’re here,” she said. “That was quick.”

Mark paid the driver as Lindsey stepped onto the sidewalk. The sun was so hot, perspiration instantly beaded on her lip. She started to walk towards the restaurant, eager to find air conditioning, when Mark’s hand closed around her arm, stopping her forward motion. She turned to him. Damn, she didn’t want to finish this now. It was stupid to start such a conversation before this meeting.

She frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“Finish,” he demanded.

Lindsey sighed in resignation. “I ticked him off. He brought up the past,” she paused, “as in he and I, telling me he loved me, and crap like that.”

Mark’s tension was palpable. “And?”

“I screwed up. I threw his words back in his face, so he lashed out. He offered life with no parole. I declined and told him we would beat him in court. I doubt he’ll negotiate.”

Mark stared at her a long moment without showing any emotion, then abruptly he broke out in laughter, shaking his head from side to side.

Lindsey gaped at him in amazement. She had expected him to be angry. “I can’t believe you are laughing,” she blurted. “I thought you’d be furious.”

To her amazement, he pulled her into his arms, and planted a kiss on her forehead. Then he looked down at her, understanding in his eyes. “It wasn’t your smartest move ever, but I don’t think he left you many options. He tried to manipulate you personally with business, and he got socked in the gut. He deserved it.”

“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,” Lindsey 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.”