She knew too much. She understood far too well the consequences of her closing her eyes and shutting out reality. Her doing so had far-reaching ramifications. Women died. Families were destroyed. Children had a future with no mother.
“The eyes are wrong,” Ramie finally whispered. “The bridge of the nose should be flatter and wider, the eyes set farther apart and more rounded at the corners.”
Respect gleamed in Dane’s eyes. She could feel his approval, broadcasting in waves as he stood silently by and watched. Eliza’s expression eased as she turned her attention back to the artist.
Ramie’s brow wrinkled in concentration when the artist presented the next draft. She studied the face, looking for signs of evil. But he looked?. . .??normal. Above average. As she’d done before when she’d stared him in the eyes, she was struck by how handsome and wholesome he appeared. There was nothing to outwardly indicate the demon behind the polished fa?ade.
“That’s him,” she choked out.
TWENTY-FOUR
WHEN Caleb entered the living room he stopped dead in his tracks, his leather briefcase falling from his grasp and landing on the floor with a resounding thud. The only other sound was coming from Ramie. She was trying to gather herself and be stoic and that made it worse because she was fighting a losing battle. She made small noises, much like a wounded animal might make. And she had her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, her knees drawn up to hide her face. She rocked back and forth, her knuckles white from where she dug her fingers in where they rested on her arms. There would be marks, small bruises from her own grip.
Caleb surveyed the room, took in the grim mood of Dane and Eliza and confusion in the eyes of the artist. “What the hell happened?” he demanded.
Not waiting for an answer, he crossed the room and went to his knees in front of where Ramie rocked herself on the sofa.
“Ramie?” he said in a gentle tone.
There was something about the way she held herself that suggested utter fragility. Her head never came up. Her face wasn’t visible. Her hair was in disarray and her knees covered her eyes, the rest of her face hidden behind the tops of her thighs.
Caleb rounded ferociously on Dane and Eliza, both of whom were watching intently, worry marring their expressions.
He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling from his chest. “What did you do to her?”
“She identified the killer,” Eliza said in a low voice. “The artist has his likeness, so we can distribute it through the proper channels and hopefully someone, somewhere, will recognize him.”
Caleb’s gaze drifted to the sketch lying on the coffee table in front of where the artist sat and his brow wrinkled, his gaze narrowing as he took in the killer’s likeness.
He looked like the last person who’d ever commit such atrocities but then wasn’t that the case with most serial killers? He recalled several famous cases where the criminal was the picture of bland mediocrity. Certainly nothing that indicated the viciousness of the crimes he committed.
“I gave her one of Tori’s pain pills,” Dane said. “She had a horrific migraine and I was afraid she was going to stroke out on me. If she’s not any better soon, she’ll need to take another. She was in a lot of pain and she needs relief.”
Caleb blew out his breath and turned his attention back on Ramie. He couldn’t very well take her to the hospital or even a private clinic. No way would he expose her. As long as she remained here, behind the impenetrable fortress he and his brothers had created, then she was safe from harm.
“If she’s not better soon I’ll call a doctor to see her here.”
Dane nodded. “I told her that. I don’t think she believed me. You operate in a world completely alien to her. She’s lived such a Spartan existence that she doesn’t know any other way. Your kind of wealth and means, your connections and power mystify her. That is if she even comprehends the full scope of your world.”
Caleb reached for one of Ramie’s small hands, gently rubbing the fingers to restore circulation.
“It’s your world too, Ramie. Maybe it wasn’t but it is now.”
She lifted her haunted gaze to his and he winced at the starkness of her features. She didn’t refute his statement nor did she confirm it. She just stared blankly at him as if trying to comprehend the ramifications of his quiet vow.
Then to his utter amazement she wrapped her arms around his neck and slid from the couch to the floor in front of him. She pressed her face into his chest and he could feel her trembling uncontrollably against him.
He stroked his hand through her hair, not saying anything as he sensed she just needed quiet—and comforting.
“He was here,” she whispered so only Caleb could hear her. In fact, he had to strain to catch what she was saying. When it sank in and he realized her meaning, his blood went cold.
He pulled her gently away from his chest and cupped her chin so he could see her eyes and her expression.
“What do you mean by that, Ramie?”