01 Only Fear (10 page)

Straining with impatience, Maggie chewed her fresh lipstick off as she watched the altercation, breathing a sigh of relief when it seemed relatively minor. In fact, Ethan let go of the man fairly quickly and was handed something by him. He shook his head in disgust and said something in return before stepping away. Ethan stood beside the SUV, hands on his hips until the man pulled away from the curb, tires screeching as the driver performed an illegal U-turn.

Maggie flipped the visor back into place as Ethan crossed the parking lot and climbed in beside her, slamming his door.

“Reporter,” he growled.

She sat, stunned and dismayed. “Already? But, how?”

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “Someone must have tipped them off about the unusual number of police on the university campus.” He held up a hand as someone picked up on the line. “Damian. We’ve got media attention. Channel Ten.” He listened a moment. “Okay.”

“Well?” Maggie asked, trying to hide her impatience as he hung up.

“He’ll have someone check the guy out and handle Channel Ten, if that’s really where he works.” He pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the street. “We’re meeting at SSAM at three. I assume he’ll fill us in then. And the university president plans to call a press conference in the morning, in conjunction with the police commissioner.” He grimaced. “Prepare yourself. It’s all about to go public.”

She sighed and sank into her seat. “It was bound to happen.” It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been through all of this before, after Brad had died. Reporters had followed her for weeks, popping up in the most unexpected places. She rolled her neck on her tense shoulders. “Taking some time to relax before the news breaks is a good idea.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I’ll take you up on that nap you promised me,” she added, fascinated by the way his green eyes darkened.

She ripped her gaze from his. She would be napping alone. If she could sleep at all. After what Fearmonger had done, she wasn’t sure she wanted to close her eyes anytime soon. But if more pleasant things would fill her dreams, such as thoughts of the way Ethan had held her… Well, she wouldn’t be getting much sleep in that case, either.

As they pulled into a pleasant little complex comprised of two-story condominiums, Maggie turned her attention to the outside world. Ethan maneuvered the car so that the front faced the end of the driveway, pointing toward the road. Just in case, she supposed, they had to make a fast getaway. Thoughtful of him. But it also reminded her of their dire circumstances.

He opened her door for her and escorted her into his home with a hand at the small of her back, his eyes everywhere at once. Did he think the killer could have followed them here?

Her anxiety must have shown in her facial expression because he pulled her against his side, his hand moving to her shoulder. His thumb absently stroked her collarbone at the edge of her shirt, sending delicious shivers down her spine.

“I’m just being careful,” he said. “He’s not out there. I’d know it.”

“It’s not much,” he said wryly, his hands on his hips as he watched her survey the general living area of his two-bedroom condo. He’d never had to worry about what a woman would think before. Since he’d moved here from D.C., he hadn’t dated much. But his mother had shaken her head when she’d seen his “bachelor pad,” as she’d referred to it.

Maggie spun in a slow circle, taking in the open floor plan that revealed the living room as well as the dining room and kitchen. At least it was clean. But there wasn’t much in the way of decoration or personality. He’d just never cared. Since the incident in the Secret Service three years ago, he hadn’t cared deeply about anything. Now, he was surprised at how much her opinion mattered.

“Stop,” he muttered under his breath, angry with the direction his thoughts had taken. His duty was to keep her safe, not to please her. But an instant image of just how he’d like to please her took hold in his mind and he forced himself to walk past her into the kitchen. Food. It was too early for the brats and beer he’d promised her, but he could forage for some breakfast.

“Hungry?” he asked, ignoring the jolt of electricity the word sent through him. She shook her head, and he narrowed his eyes on her, noting the signs of fatigue. “You should be. You’ve been up most of the night and you haven’t had breakfast.”

“Neither of us has.”

“Right. And I, for one, am hungry.” For more than just food, he thought, disgusted with himself. The woman had been through so much in the past thirty-six hours. And it wasn’t over. Not nearly.

He hadn’t told Damian because Maggie had been listening to the call, but the reporter he’d cornered had recognized her, and not just from her radio show. He’d mentioned the death of her brother. If the media learned she’d acquired another stalker,
they’d
be stalking her, too. And she didn’t need that kind of added frustration.

Ethan wished she weren’t involved. But hell, then he wouldn’t have met her. And since he’d laid eyes on her scrubbing the foul red letters from her walls and playing a wicked air guitar, he’d felt a warmth stirring within him that dispelled the chill of the past few years.

“Or maybe you’d like to rest first,” he said as she stifled a yawn.

“I doubt I’d be able to sleep.”

“Breakfast it is, then.” Jerking the refrigerator door open, he frowned at the meager contents. “Looks like juice and toast, unless you want brats for breakfast.”

“Typical bachelor, huh?” She laughed, the soft sound flowing over him like a caress.

His chest tightened. “You should do that more often.”

Her eyes sparkled like honeycomb in the sun. “What? Tease my host?”

“Laugh.” He turned his back on her look of surprise and slipped two slices of bread into the toaster. “Why don’t you go find something on TV? I’ll bring the food when it’s ready.”

Relieved when he heard her moving into the living room and putting distance between them, he shook his head at himself. He was flirting with a client. She should be off-limits. He didn’t need the distraction while he was trying to protect her. And, other than a protector, he was no good to anybody, certainly not as a boyfriend. Women like her deserved better. Hell, all she’d had in her life the past few years, from what he’d learned, was pain. Like Damian had said, she deserved everything good from life.

Which left him out of the picture.

And yet, part of him yearned for more. Yearned for a warm, willing woman to come home to. Someone who could help him forget the mistakes of the past.

He pulled the jug of orange juice from the fridge and located two glasses and plates in the cupboard. The act of making breakfast for Maggie was strangely intimate. He found he liked the feeling.

Don’t get used to it,
a voice warned him.

But he could. He easily could.

The fingerprint identification required Ethan to place his entire right hand on the pad before receiving clearance. Only then would they be granted access to the lobby of the Society for the Study of the Aberrant Mind. Maggie had known about Damian’s organization for years but, as the heavy metal door swung open, she realized she’d never really understood the dangers to him or his employees.

“Just a precaution,” Ethan assured her as he led her into the inner sanctum. “We’ve never had any lunatics show up to take us out.”

“Safety first,” she agreed, curious to see what, or who, the state-of-the-art security system protected. Food and a brief nap on Ethan’s couch had revived her. Or maybe it had been the dream she’d been having when he gently shook her awake. In her sleep, Ethan had finally kissed her—a deep, searing kiss that had branded her soul. Whether it was the bit of rest or the shot of adrenaline that had accompanied the imaginary kiss, she was feeling restless, ready to do whatever she could to find Sharon’s killer.

The SSAM offices occupied most of the top floor of a five-story building near downtown, seemingly innocuous from the outside. But then, what should a sanctuary for those who hunted serial killers look like? Certainly not a normal building with glass windows and doors.

A cave, maybe. An underground lair. After all, the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was located six stories underground.

And Damian Manchester’s name was uttered with the same sense of reverence and mystique as a superhero’s, like Batman’s, so why not have a secret hideaway? Nobody seemed to know much about him. He was a private individual.

As they crossed a small lobby with marble floors and a comfortable seating area, a tall woman with wavy strawberry-blond hair rose from behind a counter. “You must be Dr. Levine,” she said with a smile. “I’m Catherine.” She scowled at Ethan. “And you—we’ll talk later.”

The secretary signed her in, handed her a security badge and directed them toward another heavy metal door where Ethan subjected his right palm to another security scan. The door swung shut behind them with a thud, and he led Maggie down a long hallway comprised of exquisite artwork and numerous offices—all of them locked up tight. However, this time the locks required an ordinary key to bypass. Still, she almost jogged to keep up with Ethan’s long strides. She’d hate to get lost in here without Ethan’s security access. She might never get out again.

“What was that about back there?” Maggie asked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m guessing Catherine’s mad about how I treated Becca. They’re best friends.”

“Ah. And where
is
Becca today?”

He sighed as he pulled out a key and unlocked a door on the right, gesturing for her to enter. His office was as neat and sterile as his condo had been. Not a drop of personality. But then, she wasn’t one to judge. After her brother’s murder, she’d rid her own house of family photographs and the little personal touches that made it a home. The reminders of how close her family had been before Brad’s death had just been too much for her to face every day.

“She should be at the meeting,” he said. “And I’ll have to apologize.”

“I think that’s a fine idea.”

Ethan arched a brow at her, but Maggie quickly changed the subject. How he dealt with his coworkers was his business. Still, she’d come to like spunky Becca and wanted to help her if she could.

“Was working for the Secret Service anything like this?” she asked, trailing her fingers over a top-of-the-line computer. Even she could see that the Society’s employees had anything and everything they needed to get the job done. She wondered if Damian was proud of what he’d accomplished. But then, until he caught the man who’d killed his daughter and left her in a cold, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere, he wouldn’t be satisfied.

Ethan’s chuckle brought her back to the present. “No. Damian likes to have the latest and greatest in technology. It’s the second best perk of working here.”

“What’s the first?”

His grin held no amusement. “Putting the worst of the worst offenders away for good.”

“Must be very satisfying.”

“It is.”

Maggie sensed there was more to his story. Just what made Ethan’s eyes deepen with pain when he thought about serious offenders? It was more than just normal human interest. It was personal.

“Ah, good, Catherine told me you’d arrived.” Damian Manchester entered Ethan’s office, his pewter gaze drifting over her face, searching for evidence of harm. He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept in days.

“Safe and sound,” she assured him. “Thanks to Ethan.”

“Yes, I heard about the reporter who followed you.” He turned to Ethan. “Good work getting rid of him. I’m glad it wasn’t more serious.”

“Did you talk to your contact at Channel Ten?” Ethan asked.

Damian nodded. “They’ll keep things quiet, provided their team gets a front-row seat at the university president’s press conference tomorrow. We’re definitely not going to be able to keep this quiet anymore. Now that they’ve seen Maggie at the crime scene, and once they connect the dots to the strange caller she’s had on her show recently, they’ll be swarming like gnats.”

“It had to happen sooner or later,” she said with a sigh.

“Did you call your parents?”

Guilt jabbed at her. “Not yet. I will, though.”

“They need to know, especially if reporters are on to the story.” He laid a supportive hand on her arm, squeezed gently and let it fall before turning toward the hallway. “The others are already waiting in the conference room.”

This time, at least half of the dozen seats around the large conference table were occupied by SSAM team members and Noah and Maria. An unsmiling Becca sat across the room, doodling something on a sheet of paper and studiously avoiding Ethan’s gaze. Damian sat at the head of the table, next to a man who had to be the president of Chicago Great Lakes University. His cut-off-your-air necktie and old suit were too careful a mix of stuffy upper management and rumpled academic to be anything else.

Maggie took the empty chair next to the man, with Lorena on her other side. She was much too far away from Ethan for his liking. Still, it gave him the opportunity to observe her from a distance. She’d tied her hair into a loose twist at the back of her head, leaving a few soft wisps springing free, catching the light and reflecting gold and fiery red. It mirrored her personality—all that restrained fire and passion.

But from several seats away, he couldn’t smell her skin. He was fairly certain his house, particularly his couch after her nap there, would smell of her light, tantalizing scent. Something floral. Sunflowers? Maybe. He had no clue how he would even know what sunflowers smelled like, but they brought to mind all things golden and warm and bright. Like Maggie. Yeah, sunflowers probably smelled like Maggie Levine.

Damian cleared his throat and all attention immediately turned to him. “I’d like to introduce the President of CGLU, Mark Bellingham.” Damian motioned to the man beside him. “He is, of course, as concerned as the rest of us about what’s been happening to Maggie, and we need to decide on the best course of action for her and for the university following Fearmonger’s actions.”

Ethan knew the best course of action. His hands tightening slowly around the monster’s neck.

“You might want to let up, man,” Noah leaned toward Ethan to whisper. In response to his glare, Noah looked pointedly at Ethan’s fist, which was clenched so tightly around his pen, his knuckles were white. “If you don’t, we’ll have ink everywhere. I, for one, don’t want to ruin my suit.”

Ethan forced himself to loosen his grip. He wasn’t normally that open with his emotions. The Secret Service had taught him how to be stoic and unobtrusive. How to be nothing more than a shadow. Apparently, he was sliding even further away from his training than he’d thought.

President Bellingham took Damian’s lead. “I appreciate what you all are doing to find the murderer. I’m grateful that you’re taking care of Dr. Levine, as well.” He paused. “However, it is my job to do what’s in the best interest of the university and its students. That has to be my number one priority. After discussing options with Damian, I’m planning a news conference tomorrow morning at the university.”

“And what, exactly, are you planning to say?” Maria asked. “You’ll have to run it by us, too. This is, technically, still our investigation.”

“I just talked to the police commissioner,” Damian explained. “He’ll be speaking with you about it after this meeting. Dr. Bellingham’s only going to give the basics—that a young woman, a student, was found murdered in a classroom over the holiday break. And that the authorities are doing everything they can to track him down.”

Bellingham interrupted. “I’m hoping open honesty will help calm some of the parents’ and students’ fears. I don’t want a panic on our hands, and if they find out this may be a serial killer at work, well, I’m afraid that’s exactly what will happen.”

“
Is
a serial killer,” Lorena corrected. “I don’t have any doubt.”

“Could be a copycat,” Maria pointed out. “We can’t rule that out. Besides, aren’t there enough differences between the murders a decade ago and Sharon Moss that it could be two different killers? The previous murder victims, for instance, still had their noses.”

Ethan caught Maggie’s wince.

“A trophy?” Noah asked. Becca’s eyes widened at that suggestion.

“Or part of the torture,” Maria suggested. “Maybe a statement about her sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong?”

“They haven’t found the nose,” Lorena countered. “That’s more consistent with keeping a memento of the kill. Are we sure he didn’t keep anything from the previous victims?”

Now Maggie looked downright pale. Sharon had been a friend of hers, and these people were talking about her as if she were just some nameless victim. Just as Ethan was about to suggest the profiler and detectives adjourn to another room to discuss the fascinating subject of dismembered body parts, Damian spoke up.

“Continue to work the profile tonight,” Damian told Lorena, turning back to the table at large and changing the subject, saving Maggie from the more horrific details. “In the meantime, we’ll pursue this as if it is the same serial killer. Noah and Maria have agreed to keep us in the Chicago PD loop, as long as we return the favor—which, of course, we will. Open communication between the Society and the police will only help us catch this guy quicker.”

“I guess that’s my cue,” Noah said at a nod from Damian. “Preliminary findings at the CGLU crime scene yielded no fingerprints. None. Not on the flat surfaces, not in the blood.”

“What little blood there was,” Maria interrupted. “There was some blood at the scene, but there’s a lot of blood missing. He had to have known how to drain and collect it.”

“A funeral director, maybe?” Lorena asked, her sculpted brows coming together.

“It’s on our list. But he also had to be wearing gloves.”

“Fibers?”

“Nothing yet, but both our criminalists and yours are still looking through the evidence collected. Fearmonger was very cautious, so they don’t think they’ll find much.” Maria’s mouth turned downward in a frown of frustration.

“Time of death?” Lorena asked.

“Time of death coincides with the time Dr. Levine received the call from the killer.”

“Have they given any details about body positioning, tools used, things like that?” Damian asked. “It would be helpful in determining for certain whether we’re dealing with a copycat or the original killer.”

“As to that,” Lorena added, looking down the table to Noah and Maria, “if you can let us know what facts of the Fearmonger murders ten years ago were actually given or leaked to the press and public, we can see if this guy is a copycat or the real deal.”

“Of course.” Noah made a note on the pad of paper in front of him. “We’re reviewing the Fearmonger files now. We’re also investigating Sharon Moss, trying to determine how he got her to the psychology building. It’s on our to-do list.”

“You haven’t had much time,” Maggie said, sympathy in her voice.

“The first forty-eight hours after a murder are critical,” Damian said, his tone unforgiving. “Many traces of evidence are lost in that time period. Be assured,” he said, turning to Bellingham, “that the crime scene was processed as thoroughly and carefully as possible. I only employ the best.”

“So what I want to know,” Maggie said, flushing slightly as all attention turned to her, “is where has this guy, if he is Fearmonger, been for the past ten years? Why would he suddenly start killing again now? Or has he been killing all along and we didn’t know it?”

Lorena nodded, her approval clear in her eyes. “Good questions, and ones I’m looking into. I’m contacting some of my old FBI colleagues to see if there are any other unsolved murders with similar attributes. The killer’s fingerprint, so to speak.”

Like
fear
written all over a wall in bright red blood, Ethan thought. Jesus, he couldn’t let Maggie go back to her place with this psycho out there. He’d been at the scene in her psychology classroom. She hadn’t. But he had no doubt she’d recognized Sharon’s murder for what it was—a symbol that Fearmonger was getting closer to her. “Murdering”
her
vicariously. Trying to scare her as much as possible before he performed the final act.

“Something wrong?” his employer asked, his eyebrows arched in question.

“No, sir,” Ethan replied, gritting his teeth. “Just wondering where I fit in here. I assume you still want Maggie protected.”

Damian nodded. “Until this perpetrator is caught. You and Becca are still on that. In fact, I want Becca to stay at Maggie’s at night. And I’ll have someone from communications put a tap on her phone, in case he calls again.”

Ethan’s reply was a curt nod, though he wanted to object. He wouldn’t put Becca through that in front of everyone, however, no matter what his doubts about her experience were. He’d just speak with her privately.

“You won’t even know I’m there,” Becca told Maggie with a smile, which was returned.

“Well, not quite,” Damian interrupted, glancing at Bellingham. “Mark has agreed to let you go undercover as a student in Maggie’s classroom.”