Borderline (13 page)

It had taken him years to perfect the one he had now. He didn’t want to start over and figure out what actions would keep the voice silent in his head. Searching for ways to satisfy the lust for blood and pain had been difficult to begin with as he fought against the morals and ethics his father had taught, yet the hate and need in his soul drove him to take the only way out he could. After the first time he’d killed, he found the release from the almost unbearable pressure euphoric, and he became addicted to the violence.

The key jingled in the lock, and he adjusted his gloves. It was time, and his heartbeat settled along with his nerves. He’d done this more times than he could count, perfecting his ritual along the way until in the moment of death, he’d achieved pure perfection with his victim. He froze when he heard her talking.

Had she brought someone home with her? He’d picked the day because it was in the middle of the week, and she never brought people home with her during the week. She was dedicated to her work, and he admired the trait in her because he was the same way.

He waited to hear a responding voice, but there wasn’t. She must have been on her phone. He pushed the door to the pantry open a little, risking her seeing him to double-check. She stood at the counter, her back toward him, her hands waving as she talked. His upper lip curled in disgust. Again she was oblivious to his presence. No sense of self-preservation or even an instinct something wasn’t right in her house.

He couldn’t take her while she was on the phone. No one could know she was gone until after he had her in the room. Once there it wouldn’t matter if someone reported her missing. No one would find her until he was done with her. Then he’d display her like the others and read about the police chasing their tails as they tried to find the Knife.

Snorting silently, he couldn’t believe the media had given him such a pathetic nickname. No imagination these days. In the golden era of newspapers, he would have gotten a much scarier moniker, but he couldn’t argue with them about it. It wasn’t like he would be writing the papers and complaining about what they called him. No, it was better to let them all stumble over each other while he laughed in the shadows. But he would send another note to the FBI guy. It’d been fun to tease him about the killings, yet there hadn’t been any mention of the letter in the news articles.

She finished her phone call and tossed the phone on the counter as she started stripping out of her work clothes. He’d stood in the pantry on other nights, getting a handle on her nightly routine so he could make his plans. He waited until he heard the shower come on upstairs, then he slid from the pantry and patted his pocket for the syringe.

Shoot her up with a tranquilizer before carrying her out the back door wrapped in a sheet. A tall privacy fence surrounded her backyard, and it would be dark before he removed her from the house. Her neighbors weren’t the nosy kind; plus none of them had dogs. He always had to worry about dogs, because for some reason, they sensed the monster inside him and reacted angrily to it.

She wouldn’t wake up until he had her confined and the game was ready to begin. He hoped she would be fun and fight, but not all of them had the heart of his last victim. Some of them gave up too easily, and the creature living inside him would be very disappointed. To appease it, he had to butcher the body.

Although the newspapers reported he’d killed five women so far, his count was higher. The ones they had found were the ones where everything had gone perfect, where all the rituals were completed to the monster’s specifications. There were at least four other bodies he’d destroyed because something happened and the monster demanded their entire annihilation. He made sure the police would never find those.

They were an embarrassment and a failure of his goal to be the best at what he did. He never wanted to see those victims again, and if he was ever caught, he would never mention them either. They deserved to be forgotten.

He crept up the stairs, calm and collected, ready for the ritual to begin again.

* * * *

Tanner opened the door when Mac knocked. Smiling, the agent reached out and grabbed the front of Mac’s shirt, yanking him into the house. Before Mac could say anything, Tanner locked their lips together. Mac didn’t protest. He simply encircled Tanner’s waist with his arms and held him tight, taking the kiss deep and hot in seconds.

When his lungs burned and his brain begged for oxygen, he eased back, chest heaving. “Well, that was quite a greeting. I’m tempted to go back outside and see if you’ll say hello like that again.”

“Oh, I don’t think you have worry about that. I’m willing to kiss you like that whenever you wish.” Tanner winked and broke away from him. “Come on. I have dinner ready.”

Mac hung his jacket and hat on the rack beside the front door. He unclipped his gun and held it up. “Do you have someplace I can put this?”

Tanner looked over his shoulder. “Just leave it on the table in the hall or you can leave it in the living room. There aren’t any kids around to play with it, so you’ll be fine.”

“Where do you keep yours?”

“I have one in the nightstand by my bed and my issued handgun is in a gun safe in the hall closet.” Tanner waved a hand toward the door of his bedroom. “You can put yours in the nightstand with my other one.”

“Thanks.” Mac didn’t like just leaving his gun lying out, even without children around.

He slid the gun in the drawer and returned to the kitchen, where Tanner dished out spaghetti. Mac breathed deeply, his nose filling with the spicy scents of tomato and garlic. “Did you make the sauce yourself?”

Tanner laughed. “Oh no. The one time I tried, I burned it so badly I was traumatized. I’ve never tried it since. It’s much easier to get bottled sauce.”

“It still smells good, and I really wouldn’t have known the difference.” He settled at the kitchen table when Tanner set the plate in front of him.

“Beer, soda, or tea?” Tanner opened the refrigerator and asked.

“Beer.” He took a bite of the pasta and moaned. “Christ, I don’t care if it’s homemade or not; this is damn good.”

Tanner placed a bottle of beer beside Mac’s plate along with a tray of garlic cheese bread. After he took his place across from Mac, he dug in as well. They were quiet for a few minutes, taking the edge off their hunger. When the first couple of bites had eased the need, Mac met Tanner’s gaze.

“You find anything in the evidence?”

Tanner frowned. “I’m not sure. I didn’t get through all of it. Got called away for a consult on a different case. Once I’m done with every scene, I’ll be able to figure out if there’s anything there or if I’m just talking out of my ass.”

“If it’s any help, you have a very nice ass.” He laughed when Tanner blushed and tossed a piece of bread at him.

“Thank you, I guess.” Tanner propped his chin on his hand and twirled pasta around his fork. “I still think I’m missing something. I can’t figure out how he gets them out of wherever he grabs them without anyone seeing anything.”

“We thought he might drug them, but there’s never any drugs in their system and no needle marks where he might have pricked them.” Mac leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know, you might be right. There are so many cuts and wounds, how could you tell if there were any marks to indicate whether or not he drugged them. And if he did, maybe it wasn’t with a needle. He could have slipped something in their coffee or food. He keeps them long enough, the drug could have made its way out of their system by the time he dumps them.” Tanner pursed his lips. “It would explain why no one ever saw a struggle.”

Mac took a swig of beer and put the bottle on the table. “We’ll go with the idea that he drugs them somehow, but it still doesn’t tell us where he grabs them at. If it’s at their house, they would have to know him well enough to allow him in.”

“Or he could dress like a repair man or something like that.”

“We checked with all the neighbors. No one remembers seeing a repair guy or anyone like that around in the days before the women disappeared.” Mac finished his food and stood to carry the plate to the sink.

“See, that’s the thing. No one really pays attention to repair trucks or delivery people. No one would think twice of something like that in the neighborhood.”

“Speaking of which, that SUV’s back down the street again. I noticed it when I pulled into your driveway.”

Tension suddenly filled the room, and Mac looked up from where he stood, rinsing the plates before he put them in the dishwasher.

“Tanner?”

Chapter Eight

Fuck
! Tanner didn’t know what to say. How did he get Mac to ignore the Suburban without letting on he knew exactly whom those people in the vehicle were watching? He’d spent a good chunk of the afternoon reassuring someone he was safe, which was hard to do when he couldn’t be seen with the person and said person had the ability to make him disappear if he thought Tanner was in danger.

“Damn, I meant to tell them to move because they were getting noticeable,” he muttered, hoping Mac would let it go.

“Tell who? Who are they? And what are they doing in your neighborhood?” Mac closed the dishwasher and turned it on. He wandered over to where Tanner stood. Mac slipped his arm around Tanner’s waist and nuzzled his jaw. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Tanner closed his eyes and nudged his panic down. He’d never thought this would be an issue, but he should have known once Mac started coming to his house more often, the man would notice anything out of the ordinary. Mac was a police officer, after all.

“They’re there to keep an eye on me,” he admitted.

Mac whirled him around and cupped his face in his hands. “Are you in danger?”

Tanner shook his head. “No. Well, I don’t know. To be honest, the first SUV you saw probably really was a neighbor’s. This one is out there because Sam is nervous about the letter I got from the serial killer, even though I told him the guy doesn’t want to kill me.”

He’d make sure they got pulled that night. Tanner should have known they wouldn’t listen to his request.

“You’re sure it’s nothing really serious? Where you should have protection 24-7?” Mac stared into Tanner’s eyes. “I like you, Tanner, and I’d hate for anything to happen to you, especially now with the killer sending you letters.”

“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself, and like I said, they were just a precaution, but I think it’ll be fine for them to leave. Our killer’s never gone after men. I doubt he’ll start now.”

Tanner kept his gaze on Mac’s; no need to do anything to make Mac suspicious.

“Okay. As long as you’re sure you aren’t in any danger.” Mac frowned. “Why do you have a lily on your coffee table?”

Another question Tanner didn’t really want to answer, but he bit the bullet. “I went to visit my mother’s grave today and took lilies out for her. I ended up keeping one of them for here.”

“Ah. Let’s go sit in the living room, and I’ll catch you up on what I found out today.”

“I have to use the bathroom first. I’ll be right out.”

He brushed his thumb over Mac’s bottom lip and smiled before rushing to the bathroom. He made a short detour to his bedroom to grab his other phone. Leaning against the closed door, he flipped open his phone.

Call off your guys.

He pissed and washed his hands while waiting for a reply.

Problem?

Yes. Very Big Problem. Too risky.

Done. Sorry.

TY.

Tanner tossed the phone in the top drawer of his dresser and changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Wandering out, he spotted Mac standing by the window, staring out into the street.

“Are we being attacked by zombies or something?”

Mac looked puzzled. “Why would we be attacked by zombies?”

“Most zombie movies have a scene where the humans are trapped in a house and one is always peering out the window looking for zombies.” Tanner waved his hand. “Never mind. Why were you looking out the window?”

“The SUV pulled off. I guess they figured you were safe.” Mac gestured to the couch. “Let’s see if anything I found out today will help you in the profiling.”

“Fine with me.” Tanner held up the new beer he’d grabbed. “You want another?”

“Sure.”

They settled on the couch, and Tanner took a long drink before looking at his lover. “Okay. I’m ready now.”

Mac tilted his head and met Tanner’s gaze. “Are you sure you’re okay? You got really tense after we finished eating.”

“I’m sorry. I get a little weird after visiting my mother’s grave. It upsets me, knowing I’m alone in the world.”

“I can understand that,” Mac murmured, placing a kiss on the tip of Tanner’s nose. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable or anything.”

“No. You didn’t. I’m just not used to dealing with anyone after one of my visits. Haven’t really had a relationship where a guy hung around more than one time.” He winced. “God, that makes me sound like a player.”

Mac shook his head. “I never thought of it that way. I always thought of it as not being willing to play games and shit like that.”

“Maybe.” Tanner dropped his gaze to Mac’s chest for a moment before looking into his dark eyes. “It might be this case as well, or the buildup from all the cases I’ve been working on lately. I’m sure a therapist would say it was to keep my mind off the fact that she’s gone.”

“What do you say?”

Tanner lifted one shoulder. “I’d say they’d probably be right for the most part. I’m damn good at what I do, but it starts wearing on a man. All the shit humans do to each other.”

He pushed to his feet and wandered over to the bookshelves. Staring at the pictures, he rubbed a thumb over the glass covering the photo of his high school graduation where he posed with his mother.

“Are you thinking about quitting?”

Sighing, Tanner shook his head and looked at Mac. “Not at the moment. It’s just in the back of my mind. The possibility exists I won’t be doing this much longer.”

“Why become a profiler in the first place if you don’t like what you do?”