chapter Four
Amberly had no idea what had possessed her to kiss him.
It certainly hadn’t been any alcohol that he thought she’d consumed. He slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine.
“I’m not drunk,” she said. “And I should be livid that you’d think I’d get wasted when on an assignment.”
“I saw the shots you drank.” His voice was terse as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Wrong. You saw the shots that were bought for me. You saw me holding those shots. You didn’t see me actually drinking them.”
He flashed her a quick glance. “So, what happened to the shots?”
“Part of them went on the floor, some of them went into that ugly plant at the edge of the dance area and two of them went down the sink in the ladies’ room.”
She noticed his hands slowly unclenching from the steering wheel. “You’re a very good actress,” he finally said.
“That was my second career choice,” she replied, relieved that his anger seemed to be ebbing.
“So, what about that Breathalyzer?” His voice held the faint edge of tension.
“A moment of insanity. All women are allowed them occasionally.” She couldn’t explain it. She didn’t want to think about that brief kiss. His mouth had been hotter, hungrier than she’d expected, and she hadn’t wanted the kiss to end.
Crazy.
Maybe she’d consumed a little more of the alcohol than she thought she had. It was the only explanation for her sudden desire to feel his lips against hers.
“Did you learn anything?” he asked.
She was grateful to think of something other than that moment when his mouth had been on hers. “A little. I’ll trade you information for a cup of coffee at your place before I make the drive back to Kansas City.”
“Sounds like a wise idea.”
From his reply, she had a feeling he still thought she was a little bit inebriated. They didn’t speak again until they pulled up into his driveway. He cut the engine and turned to look at her. “Are you used to having that much male attention when you go out?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t go out.”
“Why not?” he asked in obvious surprise. “You’re young and attractive and single.”
“I’m not looking for a man in my life. I have my work and my son and that’s enough. Marrying John was a mistake, and I tried to make it work for three years, but I’m not sure I believe in long-term relationships.”
“That’s all I believed in until Emily’s murder.” He abruptly got out of the car, and she wondered if he was sorry he’d shared any personal information about himself and his marriage to the woman he’d loved.
“So, why aren’t you in another relationship?” she asked as she followed him to the front door.
“Just not interested,” he replied. He unlocked the front door and ushered her in before him. He led her to the kitchen, where she sat at the table while he made the coffee.
She wanted to ask him about his marriage, wanted to know if the passion he’d felt for his wife when they had first married had carried through the years that they’d been together.
Amberly only had her marriage to John as a reference point for the state of united bliss, and by no stretch of imagination had she felt bliss in that relationship. But there was something in Cole’s set features that forbade her to ask any more personal questions.
Besides, she wasn’t here to learn about his private life. She was here to help him solve a crime and nothing more. She definitely shouldn’t be remembering the feel of his lips against hers. It was a useless waste of energy.
It wasn’t until they each had a cup of coffee in hand and he was seated across the table from her that he spoke again. “So, what, if anything, did you learn?”
“First of all, Raymond and Jimmy hated Gretchen with a passion. Both of them said she was a bitch who kept Jeff from spending time with his friends and controlled Jeff’s every move.”
She paused a moment to take a sip of the coffee and then continued, “The fight that happened on the night of Gretchen’s murder wasn’t just between Jeff and Gretchen. Jimmy and Raymond were involved in the argument, as well.”
“Interesting.” Cole cupped his large hands around his coffee mug. “The story I got at the time was the fight was strictly between Gretchen and Jeff, which is what put Jeff on the top of my suspect list when she wound up murdered. Now it sounds like I should have been looking more closely at Raymond and Jimmy.”
“I wasn’t able to break the poker-game alibi, but my gut instinct says they’re lying about their whereabouts at the time of Gretchen’s murder. Unfortunately, we can’t arrest any of them on a gut instinct.”
She took another sip of her coffee and found herself almost lost in the depths of his blue eyes. “Did you find any connection between the three of them and any of the other victims?” he asked.
“No, but I think it’s worth looking into. The three of them definitely have a group mentality among them.”
“Surely you aren’t suggesting that all three are guilty of these murders?”
She leaned back in her chair and frowned thoughtfully. “There was nothing in any of the autopsy reports to indicate that the women were killed by more than one person. The knife wounds were consistent with a single killer. But that doesn’t mean that the others weren’t present when these women were killed, that it isn’t possible they were the cheerleaders, so to speak, for the person who actually accomplished the crime.”
She shrugged. “It’s just another theory to consider or toss.”
“At this point I think we have to consider everything and toss nothing,” he replied. “I definitely need to explore any relationship that might have existed between Jimmy, Jeff and Raymond and the victims.”
“But we can’t get tunnel vision,” she replied. “It’s quite possible that none of those men had anything to do with the murders. It would be a mistake to focus all of our energy on them and not look elsewhere.”
“I agree. I’ve set up a couple of appointments tomorrow to reinterview some of Barbara’s friends. I’m hoping that they might be able to tell me things about what was going on in Barbara’s life that her parents might not have known about, things they didn’t think about the night that my deputies spoke to them.”
“I’d like to be there with you when you speak to them,” she replied.
“Surely you’d rather have your weekend with your son.” He took a sip of his coffee and eyed her over the rim of the cup.
“Max is used to spending the weekends with his dad. I’m free all day tomorrow, and I can’t think of anything I’d rather do or anyplace I’d rather be.” She leaned forward. “Cole, the time line worries me. I feel like every minute that passes brings us closer to another dead woman.”
“Don’t worry, I feel the tick of a bomb about to explode, too,” he said grimly. “And on that note, you should probably get home and both of us should get some sleep. The first interview in the morning is at nine and it’s almost one-thirty now.”
A wave of weariness struck her as she realized how late it had become. “Thanks for the coffee,” she said as she got up from the table.
“Are you okay to drive home?” he asked as he walked her to the front door.
She turned and smiled at him. “Still suspect I’m only pretending to be sober?”
“No, and I apologize for doubting your work ethic.” He smiled, and it was the first time she thought she felt some warmth behind the gesture.
And that warmth swirled around in her stomach, instantly evoking the memory of that brief kiss they’d shared. “I forgive you,” she said briskly. “And I’ll meet you at your office at nine in the morning.”
Before he could even tell her goodbye, she turned and headed for her car in his driveway. Once she was on the highway heading home, she grabbed a piece of licorice from her console and chomped it down to nothing, hoping the taste would banish his taste from her mouth.
It was just before two when she finally pulled into her driveway. She parked in the driveway and half stumbled with exhaustion to her front door.
She had just unlocked her door when she thought she heard a rustling noise coming from the right corner of her house, where a large shrub stood sentry.
There was no wind. She frowned, frozen for a moment. “Hello?” she called softly. “Is somebody there?”
She remained frozen for several long moments but didn’t hear the sound again. She shoved her door open, deciding that it had probably been a figment of her exhausted mind.
All she wanted was a hot shower and bed. She felt like she’d been pawed by creeps all night and was eager to wash the nasty scent of Bledsoe’s and unwanted touches off her.
Minutes later, as she stood beneath a hot shower, it wasn’t thoughts of the investigation or Bledsoe’s that filled her mind. Thoughts of Cole Caldwell and that crazy kiss they’d shared was all she could think about.
In that brief taste of his mouth, she’d felt more passion spark inside her than in all the kisses she had ever shared with John. For that single moment, it had been wild, insane really, the desire that had erupted inside her for him.
And she thought he’d felt it, too. She’d seen the stunned look in his eyes when the kiss had ended. Was it simply shock that she’d initiated a kiss with him at all, or had it been shock from the force of the chemistry that had sparked between them?
She dunked her head under the water as if to wash away all thoughts of the hot, handsome sheriff. All he wanted from her was her expertise as a profiler, and all she wanted to do was solve this crime and get on with the next one.
She stepped out of the shower and wrapped a large bath towel around her body. Quickly brushing her hair, she then braided it down her back. It would take hours to blow-dry it, so she often went to bed with a wet braid, which dried through the night while she slept.
It was as she stepped into her bedroom that a shadow danced across her window. Her heart leaped into her throat. Somebody was outside of her house.
With the towel still wrapped firmly around her, she picked up her purse and withdrew her gun and house keys and then headed for the front door.
Her heart pounded as she unlocked her door and stepped outside in the darkness of the night. Had one of the men from the bar followed her back here? She didn’t know if it was fear or the coolness of the September night that danced chills up her spine.
She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, then with her gun clutched tightly in her hand and ready for anything, she stepped off her front porch.
Moving to the area where she thought she’d heard the rustling noise when she’d first arrived home, she whirled around the corner of the house and breathed a quick sigh of relief as she saw nobody lurking in the shadows.
With caution, she made a trip all around the house and saw nothing, and by the time she reached her porch once again, she wondered if her imagination had played tricks on her.
She’d been wound up by the drinks, by Cole and the kiss she’d shared with him and by the heinous crimes they were investigating.
It was possible the shadow she’d thought she’d seen at her window had been nothing more than a stray beam of moonlight, a passing car light on the street beyond the house.
Still, she didn’t completely relax even when she was back in her bedroom and dressed in her nightclothes. She kept her handgun on the nightstand within easy reach.
There was no question that Jeff, Jimmy and Raymond wouldn’t be happy to learn that she was an FBI agent working the murders in their town. And they would learn the truth about who she was and be able to guess what she’d been doing in Bledsoe’s tonight.
She just hoped none of them knew where she lived. She just hoped the shadow she’d thought she’d seen had been nothing more than her imagination. The last thing she wanted to do was invite a killer to her home.
“HAVE WE GOTTEN THE LOGS of calls from Barbara’s cell phone carrier?” Cole asked Deputy Roger Black.
“Yesterday. I’ve pored over them but don’t see anything odd. Calls to her parents and several teachers, but no calls to or from men in the last month,” Roger said. “Same with her laptop. I checked email, her favorites and her history, and nothing rang a bell. She didn’t seem to be into social networking much.”
Cole frowned. “So, we know she wasn’t lured to the kill location by a phone call or an email.”
“Wish we knew where the kill location was,” Deputy Ben Jamison said.
“You all have checked the empty buildings, warehouses and anyplace that might hide a murder site?” Cole asked even though he knew the answer.
They all paused as the door opened and Amberly walked in. Cole could tell in an instant that she’d had a bad night. She looked tired and slammed her purse on the old wooden conference table as if it had personally offended her.
“Your granny Nightsong would take one look at your face and say that the grouchy bug bit you in the middle of the night,” he said.
“Not enough sleep. Not enough coffee,” she replied, but a hint of a smile played on her lips. “And it’s bird, not bug.”
“Whatever. I can’t help you with the first thing, but I can definitely get you some caffeine.”
“I would really appreciate it,” she said, her features softening even more as she greeted each of the other deputies. “I got up too late this morning to have any before I left home, and I’m really not very civilized before I have a cup of coffee in the morning.”
“Well, I definitely want you civilized. I’ll be right back.” Cole quickly assigned his deputies to their tasks for the day, and they left the room with him, leaving Amberly alone.
There was nothing of the hot, sexy woman of the night before this morning. Clad in a pair of black slacks and a gray button-down blouse, with her hair pulled back in a braid and her makeup minimal, she looked every ounce of a tired FBI agent.
He could identify with the tiredness. It had taken him forever to go to sleep the night before. Her idea of a Breathalyzer had kept him awake for far too long.
He wasn’t sure what had surprised him most, the fact that she’d initiated the kiss or his visceral response to it. He’d reacted to it like a dehydrated man offered his first sip of water.
He’d also been shocked by the surge of jealousy that had risen up inside him as he’d watched the other men interact with her.
He’d lived the past eight years of his life like a monk, uninterested in sex, focused solely on keeping the people of this small town safe and training his deputies to be the best that they could be trained.
If he had spare time, he used it to seek peace by sitting on the bank of Mystic Lake and either dwelling in old memories of the love he’d once had or shoving away all thoughts of what he’d lost.
That kiss had reminded him of the warmth of a female body pressed tight against his, of the spill of full breasts into his palms. He’d remembered the warmth of sheets cocooned around him as he explored the curves of the woman next to him.
The kiss had reminded him of early-morning coffee conversations, of the need to rush home after a long day at work to be greeted by somebody who loved him. He’d remembered all he’d denied himself for the past eight years. He’d wanted to honor the memory of his wife for the rest of his life.
He was a thirty-five-year-old man and the kiss had told him that he wasn’t hormonally dead; his hormones had just been in a coma. But now they were awake and fully raging, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.
One thing was certain. He had no intention of allowing his hormones to get involved with Amberly Nightsong. First and foremost, she was his coworker and any physical relationship would only make things awkward between them.
Besides, she didn’t appear to be the casual-hookup kind of woman, and that’s all any woman would ever be in his life. Emily had marked his heart forever, scarring it with her absence in a way that left no space for another.
His anger and guilt about the manner of her death haunted him in the night. How close he’d been to saving her and, ultimately, how tragic that he’d been mere minutes too late.
Whatever had occurred between Amberly and her husband had apparently left her scarred enough for her to be not willing to try it again. She’d said she was satisfied with her work and with her son. But that kiss had whispered of a hunger perhaps she didn’t realize she possessed.
He shook his head as if to mentally clear it as he carried two cups of coffee back into the conference room and found her where she usually sat, facing the bulletin board. She appeared completely engrossed in the photos and barely nodded as he set her coffee on the table in front of her.
“Who are we meeting with this morning?” she finally asked, turning those dark eyes to look at him.
“Jenna James. According to everyone I’ve spoken to, she was Barbara’s best friend. When my deputy spoke to her the night of the murder, she was too distraught to be much help. We’re meeting her at her apartment.”
“Anything specific I need to know?” She took a sip of the coffee, and her eyes began to take on a sharper, clearer view, as if the single shot of caffeine had focused her.
“Jenna works at the school where Barbara worked, and they lived in the same apartment building. From what I’ve heard, they did almost everything together. If anything was going on in Barbara’s life, Jenna should know about it.”
“And hopefully by the time we leave Jenna’s apartment, we’ll know everything from who Barbara was dating to who she had a secret crush on.”
“I hope so,” he said. He frowned and took a sip from his cup of coffee. “We need a break somewhere from someplace or somebody.”
“There was a moment last night when I thought maybe the break was going to come when my dead body was found sometime this morning.”
He started and stared at her, his heart taking an uneven rhythm. “What are you talking about?”
She smiled ruefully. “I thought maybe one of the boys in the bar had followed me home last night. First I thought I heard a rustling noise in the bushes next to my house, and then after I’d showered, I thought I saw something, or rather somebody moving outside my bedroom window.” Her tone was light as if it was no big deal.
“Did you call the police?” he asked, thinking it was a much bigger deal than she obviously did.
“No, I went outside with my gun and checked out the yard. There was nothing there and no sign that anyone had been out there.”
His heart nearly stopped at the idea of her being alone in the dark, gun or no gun.
“I think my imagination just went a little wacky,” she finished.
He narrowed his eyes. “Does that happen a lot?”
“Almost never,” she admitted. “I’m definitely not the type to see evil men lurking in shadows or believe somebody is after me. Last night was an anomaly, an acceptance that these murders have gotten to me like none have for a long time.”
“And why is that?” he asked. After all, she probably worked dozens of cases a year in her career—she’d have to be good at compartmentalizing emotions, distancing herself from the victims, or she wouldn’t be as effective in the job.
She frowned. “I’m not sure. Maybe because the women aren’t that much younger than me. Maybe it’s the dream catchers that were left at the scene or the fact that we have absolutely no evidence and few leads to follow.” She shrugged. “At any rate, I definitely took the case home with me last night and was as jumpy as a silly girl in a horror movie.”
“Are you sure there was nobody there?” He should have recognized the potential issues of allowing her to go undercover, so to speak, the night before. What if somebody did follow her home from here? Found out where she lived and how she might be vulnerable. What if it was the killer?
“As sure as I can be.” She finished the last of her coffee and stood. “And we’d better get out of here if we’re going to meet Jenna on time.”
Together they left the conference room and headed out to Cole’s official car. An uneasiness continued to gnaw at him as he thought about her leaving Mystic Creek each night to head back to Kansas City.
“You have to make sure that you aren’t followed from here when you head home each day,” he said when they were in his car and driving toward the apartment complex where Jenna lived.
He never should have agreed to her scheme the night before. He should have realized that sooner or later the three men she’d been chatting up for details about the crimes would identify her as the enemy, and if one of them was their killer, then they might have placed a giant target on her back.