“What happened that night?”
Lacey picked at the seam on her hot-chocolate cup, avoiding his eyes, knowing he didn’t mean last night’s fire. Jack was going back to the original reason for his visit.
“Why do you need to know?” She forced herself to look at him. Why had she agreed to this?
Steady eyes met hers. “My name is being sucked into a growing snowball of dead bodies and I need to know why. I need some history of the situation to get a bigger picture of what’s going on. I figured you were the best person to give it to me.”
She nodded slowly. She could see his reasoning. It’d been years since she’d related the events of that night to anyone. Several psychologists, her parents, and two close friends were the only people she’d told the story. So much time had passed. A ridiculous urge to dump her burden in his lap coaxed out her words.
“Suzanne and I were on our way to the restaurant to meet up with the rest of the team after the meet. It was only a few blocks from our hotel. The coaches didn’t care if we wandered around town, as long as we were in pairs.”
She swallowed hard.
“We started to cross in front of the alley that was behind the hotel when a car came up. We stopped to let him turn out of the alley, but he waved us on. It was pretty dark. I couldn’t see much of him except for a silhouette and his hand waving at us. We crossed in front of the car and kept going toward the restaurant.”
“You never saw the guy in the car?”
“Not ’til I heard the car door open. I glanced behind me because it struck me as odd that the motor was still running.” She expected to see pity in Jack’s eyes. Instead, she saw intense concentration and attention.
“He rushed at us and tackled me first. I was on my stomach, with him on my back, when I screamed for Suzanne to run. She didn’t.” Lacey wiped abruptly at her eyes, angry at the uncontrollable wetness. “She started kicking him and pulling on him, yelling for him to let go of me. She was so stupid! She could’ve gotten away and got help or something!”
“Is that what you would’ve done in her shoes?”
She shook her head slowly, locked on his serious gray gaze. It’d taken months for her to accept that she would’ve stayed and fought for Suzanne. But that didn’t lessen the pain. Or the blunt anger at her dead friend for her foolishness. Blotting at her wet nose with a napkin, she pushed on as her insides churned.
“He grabbed her by the ankle and tripped her. He was so big; he could hold me and knock her down at the same time. I managed to twist to my back, and I bit his arm and tried to knee him, but he crushed his knee into my chest and punched me in the nose.” She winced. “I can still hear the horrid crunch it made. Then I couldn’t breathe because of his weight and the blood going down my throat. I don’t know what Suzanne did to him right that second, but it pissed him off. He crawled off me and grabbed her by the hair. I rolled onto my side and just lay there, trying to breathe.”
Stalling, trying to get a grip, she took a shaky sip of her drink. “I don’t know if I can...”
“Keep going.” The voice was firm, but compassionate.
She inhaled and felt strength from his calm.
“I was gagging and spitting blood. I could hear her screaming, but I couldn’t move. No one had ever deliberately hit me before,” she whispered, eyes on her cup.
“Suddenly, Suzanne stopped screaming. I mean, really stopped. She went from ear-piercing screams to utter silence. That got my attention. I rolled to my stomach, flung out blindly with both hands and grabbed at whatever was closest, catching her ankle. He was trying to lift her up and she was totally limp. I couldn’t even tell if she was breathing or not. I just knew I had to hang on or else she’d be gone. It turned into a tug-of-war. I pulled her foot to my chest, squeezing with all my strength, and shut my eyes. My gut told if I let go, she’d be dead.” She glanced up.
Jack’s eyes were wide.
“He kicked me in the face. Really hard. And more blood filled my mouth, and I was coughing and hacking to get it out. It tasted so bad, and it was thick and gross. But I wouldn’t let go. I ducked my face into her leg and held on tighter.”
“Then what did he do?”
“He kept kicking me in the head, trying to make me let go. I don’t know how many times. When he stopped kicking, I thought we’d made it. He was leaving and we were safe, but I still wouldn’t let go. Then my leg erupted with pain. The absolute worst pain I’d ever felt. Worse than my smashed face, worse than the time I broke my collarbone. He’d stomped on my knee and I let go.”
She inhaled unevenly, feeling the phantom twinges in her leg. DeCosta had shattered the tibia up near her knee. She noticed Jack was pale and rubbing at his thigh, unable to look away.
“He heaved her up over his shoulder like she was a doll and dashed back to the car. I remember seeing her arms flop down his back like broken tree limbs, but I don’t remember anything after that. They said I repeated the license plate over and over in the ambulance. I don’t remember that either.”
Her nerves were quivering, fighting the adrenalin in her system, trying to hold still, not let him see how reliving the memories had shaken her core. She’d said she didn’t remember any more, because she couldn’t articulate the absolute terror and failure she’d experienced as her eyes had strained in the dim light to lock on Suzanne, trying to pull the girl back through sheer brainpower. Lacey couldn’t describe the black curtain that had finally fallen as the car spun its tires, leaving her with a glimpse of a shimmering license plate and red taillights. Like evil eyes in the dark.
That black curtain still lurked, slithering over her skin when her guard was down.
She stared out the window at the tall firs, sucking in their icy beauty to chill the memories and cool the heavy guilt.
Why had she let go?
Jack didn’t ask if Lacey was going to finish the sandwich. He knew she couldn’t. It was a good thing he’d eaten before she started talking, or his sandwich would still be on his plate too.
Jesus Christ. What she’d gone through.
Worse. What she imagined her friend had gone through.
He knew exactly what it was like to be helpless and see someone in a life-threatening position. Frustrating, guilt-producing, keep-you-awake-at-night blame game.
He stretched a hand across the table and laid it on her wrist as she clutched at her hot chocolate. Startled eyes flashed to his and she jerked her arm away, sitting straighter.
“Are you all right?” Stupid question.
She nodded, lips closed tight, eyes still startled.
What was he thinking by touching her? Just talk to her. Distract her.
“I told you I dated Hillary Roske. One of the first victims.”
She gave another stiff nod of assent.
“We met several years before she vanished. I was hauled in for questioning along with a dozen of her ex-boyfriends.” He smiled wryly. “The timing wasn’t great. I was trying to get hired with the police department. They weren’t thrilled to have me questioned in a murder case.”
Her wide mouth turned up at one corner, but he wanted to see the entire smile. It wasn’t easy to pull his gaze back up to hers and away from those lips. He relaxed as he noticed her eyes had lost the rattled look. He was doing something right.
“It came to nothing, though. I followed the case and cheered when they caught the killer.” There was her smile. Nearly too wide for her face, but incredibly appealing. His chest warmed and he wanted to see more. “Now I know they caught him, thanks to you. But I’m back in the thick of it again. Between the apartments, Hillary, and Cal, I feel like I’m in the hot seat.”
“Who do you think killed him?”
“Who? Cal?” Jack shook his head. “I don’t want to leap to conclusions, but I assume it was the same person who dumped your friend’s remains. Someone deliberately left that badge there to lead us to him.” He paused. “Did you know Cal Trenton?” It was a wild shot, but he had to ask.
“No.”
“Do you know who would have wanted your friend’s case out in the open again? Or why they would leave a police badge with her skeleton?”
She rubbed her lips together, and he watched her concentrate. His questions had distracted her from her disturbing story—one of his reasons for asking them.
“I can’t think of anyone. Or why someone would do that. It just doesn’t make sense to me. DeCosta’s gone. Dead. It’s over. Why would someone stir it up deliberately with...Suzanne? Do you think it’s a coincidence that Suzanne and the badge were together?”
“Hell, no. I don’t think it’s a coincidence. On my property? With my ex-partner’s badge? DeCosta may be dead, but someone knew where to find her body. And someone wanted some big fat arrows pointing at me.”
They both sat silently. Jack felt a quiet pull toward her, his original attraction from Saturday hadn’t dimmed, in spite of the horror of her story. The attraction was stronger. Now he knew Lacey was smart, sharp, and compassionate. And as tough as hell. Anyone who’d gone through...
He wanted to see her again. Jack blinked in surprise at the sudden emotion. Why now? He hastily scrambled for the negatives. Lacey Campbell had a boatload of emotional baggage, and he was facing a war with some nasty press. Why an attraction now?
People don’t date under those conditions.
His cell rang and he mumbled an apology to her as he answered the call from his secretary. He listened silently to the unsurprising news as Lacey pushed away her plate and picked up her drink again. His eyes locked on her mouth as she sipped the drink, and a thick piece of blonde hair fell over one cheek, hitting the cup. He reached to push it back, remembered how she’d reacted to him touching her arm, and turned the movement into a reach for his own drink. He tapped his fingers on the glass bottle, not drinking as he studied her downcast eyes. Gorgeous thick dark lashes. She wasn’t wearing eye makeup; he didn’t think she needed it. Her eyes were big and expressive. He ended the call. “State police want to talk to me again tomorrow.” He rubbed his hand over his scratchy chin. “I guess I was expecting that.”
“I’m sorry.” Lacey grimaced. “I did that on Saturday. It wasn’t pleasant.”
Her eyes met his in sympathy and the quiet moment stretched. He wasn’t ready to let her go. He shifted on his chair as his irrational mind scrambled for an excuse.
“Can I call you? If I think of some more questions?”
“Ah...sure. I guess so.” Her words slowed as if she was carefully considering each one. “Why don’t you let me know what the police have to say? And if you hear any more from the Lakefield PD.” She gave him a half smile, and his heart skipped a beat.
“You can count on it.”
Satisfaction flowed through him.