Dangerous Kisses (4 page)

Sydney detected a break in his voice he tried to cover, not something a murderer would likely do. If he had killed Maggie, he’d probably be much more dramatic about his "grief."

"I’m just trying to find out what happened and help bring her killer to justice. Her family deserves that. Maggie deserves that."

"I was out of town doing my Army Reserve training when they found her. I just got back late last night." Derek spun his chair so that his profile faced Sydney. "I can’t help wondering that if we’d stayed together I might have been able to prevent this. Who would kill her? She didn’t have an enemy in the world."

"Her mother says she doesn’t know of any ex-boyfriends other than you. Do you know if she did see other people?"

"I don’t know. We didn’t keep in touch."

After a few more minutes of hearing Derek echo what Maggie’s mother had said, Sydney left his office and drove toward her own. Well, back to square one. When she pulled into the parking lot beside the paper, she didn’t immediately go inside. She sat in her car and examined her notes.

Maggie Field. Young, beautiful, well liked, no enemies. All indications pointed toward a stranger murder, and the chocolate comment still puzzled her. Was it some sort of marker left behind by the killer, a signature of sorts? That thought propelled her into the office. She dropped her notes and purse on the edge of her desk and sank into her chair. After her computer booted up, she searched the paper’s online archives for any other cases that might match Maggie’s.

A few minutes later, a story caught her eye. Stephanie Mortimer, 27, had been found dead in a rocky glade off Murfreesboro Road four months earlier. Sydney scanned the rest of the article, scribbling down pertinent facts as she went. Stephanie had been found nude and raped. Cause of death, strangulation. She spent the next hour scanning the follow-up articles about the case, one still open as far as she could tell.

Her research found other similarities between the two girls. They both lived alone, were blond and quite striking. Quotes from those who knew them offered the same observations — they had lots of friends, no one could imagine anyone wanting to kill them.

Unless that someone had picked them specifically for those reasons.

Sydney exited the archives, then dialed Radley’s office, determined to get him to admit something bigger was going on, that there was information the women of Nashville needed to know to protect themselves.

As the phone rang, she thought back to his parting comments the night before. He’d seemed so sincere, pained almost. If he was truly keeping quiet because he didn’t want to jeopardize the case, she could respect that. But she wouldn’t quit trying to convince him otherwise. He very well might have been burned before. Lord knew there were some reporters out there who bordered on unethical. She had no more use for them than the cops did.

A woman on the other end of the line finally answered. When Sydney asked for Radley, the woman said, "Detective Radley is at the medical examiner’s office this morning. Can I take a message?"

"No thanks." She hung up then headed for the door.

"Where you off to?" Becky asked.

"An autopsy."

Becky shuddered. Sydney couldn’t agree more.

When she reached Dr. Prewitt’s office, she stepped inside just long enough to verify Radley was still there then returned to her car to wait. The thought of an autopsy gave her the creeps. Though they were often necessary, she couldn’t get over the fact that they seemed invasive on some level other than the physical. She’d had nightmares for more than a year after she’d learned her mother’s body had undergone an autopsy.

And now poor Maggie Field, who’d already been violated, was being subjected to even more intrusion in death.

Maybe this time, the body would provide a trail of clues leading to the slime who’d taken life and death into his own hands and chosen death.

****

Jake leaned against the wall and tried not to breathe too deeply. It didn’t matter that he’d stood in this room dozens of times before, he never got used to the smell of preservative, strong cleaners and death. The jars of tissue and body parts awaiting their day in court didn’t bother him, but the smell stuck in his nose for hours every time he attended an autopsy.

Harry, however, whistled as if he were strolling down Myrtle Beach at sundown. Of course, he’d been doing autopsies since Jake had toddled around in diapers, and there wasn’t a type of homicide he hadn’t seen. The medical examiner circled Maggie’s body in the same precise way he always did, giving a running commentary to the recording microphone above the table.

Jake remained quiet throughout the process. Unlike some of his colleagues, he didn’t interrupt Harry when he was working and didn’t suggest the older man lean one way or the other in his findings. Jake’s father had tried influencing Harry once when he’d been a young detective, and Harry had told him in no uncertain terms that he was wasting his breath. When it came to his job, Harry Prewitt was devoted to no one save the deceased and the science that would point to how they’d died.

Jake glanced at the clock. Almost noon. Only five hours into his shift and he felt as if he could crawl up in the nearest chair and fall asleep. Thoughts of Sydney had plagued him all night. Thank heavens, he didn’t have to deal with her this morning.

The sound of snapping latex drew Jake’s attention. He glanced toward the stainless steel table where Maggie lay still as a stone. Harry pitched his discarded gloves into the trashcan.

"What’s the verdict?" Jake asked.

"Death by strangulation. She was strangled from the front, likely with the killer sitting on top of her from the looks of the bruising. He used both hands."

"Exactly the same as Stephanie Mortimer?"

"Yes."

"Damn!"

No doubt about it. The same man was responsible for both deaths, and he took delight in his power over his victims. Jake ran his hand over his face. They had to release some information, but how did they warn the public without generating panic? And word of a serial killer preying on beautiful young women would definitely create panic. They’d be flooded with calls from the frightened parents of every girl on the city’s college campuses alone.

He’d crossed half the distance to his car when he noticed Sydney waiting for him. He cursed. He didn’t need her questions right now.

"Good morning, Detective Radley."

"Morning."

"Is the medical examiner finished with Maggie’s autopsy?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Call PIO later. She’ll have some information."

"I bet I already know what they will and will not say."

Had someone blabbed? He ignored her as he proceeded toward his car. She followed.

"I’ll bet Maggie was raped and then strangled, just like Stephanie Mortimer. And I’m guessing the chocolate Randy was talking about is this guy’s way of signing his work."

Jake stopped, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he turned toward Sydney, he didn’t see the look of triumph he’d been expecting.

"Am I right?" she asked.

"You’re going to run this no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

"Don’t assume things, Detective. But it’s my duty to let the public know if they’re in danger. I’d be giving this creep a helping hand if I didn’t." The chilly breeze lifted a loose tendril of her hair as she watched him. "It might be hard for you to admit and you may have a valid reason to feel that way, but I’m one of the good guys here. I’d like to work together on this."

The thought of working closely with the press again made Jake cringe, but Sydney seemed so genuine. He had a few years of experience under his badge now, and he credited himself with being able to judge people more accurately than he had when he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.

Maybe he could work with Sydney only as much as it suited his needs and those of the investigation. He didn’t have to trust her with everything.

"Okay, you’re right about Maggie’s cause of death. We’re not positive there is a link between her and Stephanie Mortimer, but it looks that way."

"Do you think it’s a serial murderer?"

"I don’t know."

"Gut instinct?"

He stared at her for a few seconds before saying, "Yes."

"Did Stephanie have a piece of chocolate on her lips, too?"

"That’s not important to your story."

"It might be. You don’t know."

His shoulders stiffened. "Tread carefully, Sydney. You already have more than I was going to give."

"I’m truly curious, Detective. Why are you so secretive when lives could be at stake? If this guy is targeting a certain type of person, they have a right to know, to be extra vigilant."

"There’s also the argument that you don’t let out too much for fear of copycats, panic and the killer doing something drastic," he said.

To her credit, she nodded as if she saw the merit of his argument. "I can see where that would be a concern." It was more than he’d expected to be yielded.

She consulted her watch. "I’ve got to get back to the office," she said, then turned toward her car.

"Sydney, keep that information about the chocolate out of the story."

She didn’t respond, only gave a little wave indicating she’d heard him, got in her car and drove away.

An invisible force from the past punched him in the gut. Had he just committed the cardinal sin of law enforcement? By trusting Sydney with information crucial to the case, had he made the same mistake twice?

Jake scooted his chair back from the central table in the Murder Squad room. Their brainstorming session had yielded some valuable information on some of the squad’s cases but not his. Their serial killer’s identity remained a mystery. At least he hadn’t struck again.

"You want to see today’s paper?" Kevin asked as he held the
Courier
out toward Jake.

Jake hesitated then grabbed the paper. For the third day in a row, one of Sydney’s articles about the murders occupied a good chunk of the front page. Today’s installment was an interview with Stephanie Mortimer’s parents and a sidebar drawing comparisons between the two girls. He gritted his teeth as he stared at Sydney’s byline. While she’d withheld the information about the chocolate, she’d nonetheless sent the city into an uproar.

And the frustrating part was that he could understand her assertion that possible victims needed to know to protect themselves. But he kept waiting for the big sock in the gut, the day when they needed to spring something sensational to sell more papers. The day when Sydney would reveal the chocolate signature and possibly hurt their chances of catching the scumbag. He could imagine all the copycats leading them in useless directions. Man-hours that could be used in search of the real culprit.

He headed toward his desk, unable to look his fellow detectives in the eye. What did they think of him now? That his judgement was so impaired that he was a detriment to the department rather than an asset? Even though they’d not mentioned it, they had to know he’d been the one to confirm Sydney’s suspicions. He was the lead detective and knew more about the case than any of them.

The muscles in his neck and jaws grew tighter and tighter the more he thought about his possible lapse in judgment. Maybe it would have been better to let Sydney draw her own conclusions without him offering any validation. He still wouldn’t be pleased with her series, but at least guilt wouldn’t eat away at his insides.

His momentary weakness had resulted in exactly what he’d feared — hundreds of phone calls from scared parents. Those calls would have come eventually, but he would have liked more time to investigate before all hell broke loose.

"You going tonight?"

It took a moment for Jake to realize Kevin was talking to him. He’d been deep in concentration, looking over his notes on the case for what had to be the billionth time. "What?"

"The mayor’s dinner – you going?"

Jake gritted his teeth, resenting the necessity of taking time away from the investigation. But his mother wanted to attend the event each year, and it was his duty to take her. "Yeah."

"Okay. See ya there."

With Kevin’s exit, Jake was left alone in the room. But despite the blessed quiet, he couldn’t concentrate. His stomach continued to clench at the thought that he’d made a mistake in trusting Sydney even a fraction.

It might be unreasonable and it might be a product of his past experience, but he couldn’t stop the feelings of anger when he looked at the newspaper article. She’d reported Maggie’s death and that the investigation was ongoing. She’d even done a nice piece about the person Maggie had been. Why couldn’t she let it go at that? She’d warned people. Why must she continue to harp on it?

Unable to sit still or keep his thoughts from torturing him, he stalked toward the door. He might not be able to stop Sydney from running her articles, but he could sure as hell tell her what he thought about it.

****

Sydney read through her story about Nashville’s past serial killers one more time, noticing how nearly all the victims had been female. That lopsided statistic angered her. All those mothers, sisters, girlfriends, daughters. No matter how many advances women made, they still fell victim to violent crime much too often.

Someone plopped a stack of envelopes on the edge of her desk.

"Here’s your latest batch of fan mail," said J.D. Forrester, the paper’s mail clerk.

"Ha. More likely they’re telling me I couldn’t write my way out of a paper bag."

"That can’t be true. You’ve been on the front page most of the week."

She’d rather never make the front page than have it caused by the loss of innocent life. She’d gladly work the education desk if crime suddenly disappeared. Lord knew she’d probably sleep better and actually have a life.

As J.D. moved on to the rest of the newsroom, Sydney returned her attention to her computer screen. She finished proofing her story and sent it to Bill, her editor. When she looked back at her stack of mail, she noticed a small brown package minus a return address. She picked it up noting it barely weighed anything.

She slid her finger beneath the paper to rip it open. When a single, silver-wrapped piece of chocolate tumbled out of the box onto her desk, she inhaled sharply. She’d thought of little else since Randy Helmswood had uttered his vague allusion to chocolate.

Sydney glanced up to see if J.D. was still around. Not that it mattered. He probably had no idea where the box came from anyway. She scanned the newsroom as if she’d see the identity of the killer in someone’s face. Did someone else know about the chocolate? And if they did, who would think sending her a piece would be funny?

"Miss Blackburn."

Sydney jumped but then recognized that deep, frustrating but sexy voice even before she looked up to make eye contact with Radley. She prided herself on being capable and independent, but his arrival on the heels of her scare proved comforting. And that annoyed her. As did the image that floated up from her memory.

She’d never admit it to a soul, but she’d dreamed embarrassing dreams about him each night since she’d met him. She’d wake up hot and tangled in her covers. Her cheeks warmed at the image, as if he could read her thoughts.

But as she looked at his hard face and dark eyes, it was difficult to believe this was the same man who’d driven her wild in her dreams.

"I’d like to talk to you," he said.

She detected a flicker of anger in his words. Was he angry enough to try to frighten her?

"I’m glad you stopped by, Detective. I have something to ask you, too."

Becky walked by on the way to her desk. Radley watched her until she was out of earshot.

"I guess you’re proud of your coverage," he said before he turned his gaze back to Sydney.

"Is that all you came by for, to tell me how worthless a reporter like me is?" His animosity was quickly becoming tiresome, even if she thought she detected a slight softening of his hard stance.

He turned his intense gaze on her, making her warm more despite her resolve not to let him affect her.

"Not exactly."

"What exactly, then?"

"I hope you think these stories are worth the uproar they’re causing. Our phones are ringing off the hook. Every parent with a blond daughter is convinced she’s next and wants police protection."

"I’m sorry about that, but I did what I felt was right. I hoped someone might have some information that would help locate Maggie’s and Stephanie’s killer."

"Have you thought maybe you’re feeding this guy’s ego?"

"Maybe. But if I can help one girl stay out of his clutches, it’s worth it."

Radley blew out a long breath. He scanned the room, but when his eyes focused back on her desk they narrowed.

"That part of one of your stories?"

Sydney picked up the chocolate and held it up in her palm. "This was my question for you. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?"

"Where did it come from?"

"It came in my mail today with no return address. I thought maybe it came from the justice center."

Radley caught her gaze and held it. "You think I sent this to you as a joke?"

"Maybe just to make a point."

"I make my points in other ways."

A shiver ran down her back, and she dropped the chocolate as if it would burn a hole through her palm. If it wasn’t Radley, the most likely option was the killer. That possibility settled in her stomach like a cold stone and sent goose bumps galloping across her arms and shoulders.

"Sydney, have you received any other suspicious mail or phone calls?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Radley, I’m sure. I’m a reasonably observant person." She sounded sharp and a bit on the witchy side, but that tended to happen when she felt threatened. Defense mechanism, plain and simple.

"Maybe this will convince you to stop writing about this for awhile. There’s nothing new to report anyway."

She wanted to scream but lowered her voice instead. "I can’t stop doing my job just because this guy thinks he can scare me." A serial killer wasn’t about to stroll into the newsroom anyway, and she’d buy ten deadbolts for her apartment if necessary.

Radley exhaled slowly, giving Sydney the distinct impression he was trying his best not to yell at her in front of the entire newsroom. "What if this is from the killer, and he’s picked you to be his next victim?"

Sydney couldn’t prevent the visible shudder that ran through her. The thought of ending up like the two previous girls, of falling victim to a predator like her mother had, threatened to make her sick. Her head went light and she blinked several times to try to clear the feeling.

Radley surprised her by squatting down beside her chair. "I think you’re more scared than you want to admit."

"It’s unsettling, I’ll give you that."

"I want you be careful. Don’t go anywhere by yourself. Keep your doors locked."

"You might not believe this, but I’m careful all the time. You don’t have to be a reporter long before you learn there are a lot of crazy people running around on the streets."

Sydney glanced into Radley’s eyes, level with hers. This close, she could discern their deep brown hue, barely lighter than the black pupils they surrounded. Her breath caught in her chest.

Merciful heavens, he was gorgeous. Even in the face of possible danger, Radley still affected her like no one ever had, making her heart beat loudly in her ears. She wished they could discard their lives for just a minute so she could kiss him and have him pull her into his arms like he had in her dreams. Though she’d been embarrassed each time she woke from one of those dreams, they’d felt so right while she was having them. Jake had driven away her loneliness in those dreams, a loneliness she had up until that point not even acknowledged.

But it was her choice to be alone. She’d seen how awful it was when one half of a couple in love was ripped from the other. She never wanted to feel that kind of despair. Losing her parents was enough loss for a lifetime.

"Sydney?"

"Huh? I’m sorry, what did you say?" She lowered her gaze to Jake’s hands, unable to face him when she’d fantasized about him.

"I said, do you have anywhere you can stay until we find this guy?"

"My apartment."

"That’s not exactly safe."

"I lock my doors, I live on the second floor, and I have a cell phone."

"Sydney," he said as if talking to a stubborn child.

"Listen, if the killer did send this chocolate to me and I alter my life, he wins. Whether you believe it or not, I believe I’m doing some good here."

"What about a safe house? You could still work but you wouldn’t have the exposure at home."

"I promise I will take every precaution, but I want to stay in my own apartment."

Radley pushed himself to his feet. "I’ll order extra patrols by your place."

"Good. Maybe if I stay there, we’ll hit some luck and nab the guy, though I’m not real hot on being bait." Her skin crawled at the thought of the killer skulking in the dark shadows near her building. What she wouldn’t give for a Taser to go with her pepper spray. A determined man could fight through pepper spray, but with a Taser blast he wasn’t going anywhere but flat on his face.

"I want to take this in as possible evidence," Radley said, pointing toward the chocolate and the package it came in.

"Go ahead. I certainly don’t want it."

Radley pulled two paper evidence bags from inside his coat pocket. He carefully deposited the candy and the ripped packaging into them, immediately labeling each with pertinent information.

"Do you think the other girls got these ahead of time?" she asked.

"I don’t know, but I’m going to check it out."

"You’re going to check Maggie’s and Stephanie’s apartments again?"

"Stephanie’s will have been rented out again by now."

"But not Maggie’s. I don’t suppose I could tag along?"

"No. But if I find anything you need to know, I’ll call."

His idea of what she needed to know likely didn’t match hers, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue.

He strode halfway to the door before he turned back toward her. "Sydney?"

"Yeah?"

"I want you to call me if you get anything else. Letters, phone calls, candy, I don’t care what and I don’t care if you think it’s nothing."

She nodded. "Okay." She had always been way more careful than the average woman, and now her awareness of her surroundings would be even more hypersensitive. She truly believed she could take care of herself. The hint that Radley might be human enough to care a little caused an unwanted curling of warmth in her chest. Bad idea to think of him as anything other than a detective with whom she had to work.

Evidently satisfied with her response, he turned and left, leaving her watching the space where he’d stood.

"I’d venture a guess that Detective Radley isn’t the only one smitten," Becky said from beside her.

She almost denied Becky’s accusation but found she couldn’t without choking on the lie. She was indeed smitten. She dropped her forehead into her upturned hand in frustration. Why, Radley? Of all the available men with whom she came into contact, why did she have to become infatuated with such an arrogant, bossy, hard man? One with whom she had absolutely no future. Not that she was into long-term relationships. They made you too vulnerable.

Becky chuckled and patted Sydney on the back. "It’s not that bad, is it?"

Sydney looked up at her friend. "Please. Can you think of someone less right for me?"

"A million different guys. I think Detective Radley has definite potential."