Deadly Relations (13 page)

“
Absolutely. I’ve camped there since I was a little kid. There’s nothing like sleeping under the stars, listening to the sounds around you. That’s cool you camp, too.”

<><><>

Two weeks later, Tiffany trudged behind Lance, admiring the muscles in his legs and his tight ass as they made their way to his favorite campsite inside Rocky Cliff State Park. The pack on her back felt like it weighed a ton and her feet were killing her. What was she, a pack-mule? The only thing that kept her going was the thought of Lance, naked, sharing a sleeping bag with her under the stars — not that they’d notice the stars much if she had her way.

Finally, after passing about a dozen campers, they reached Lance’s favorite camp site. It was away from the others and privately nestled in pine trees near a small stream. Lance pointed out a deer path nearby and promised they’d see a doe or two during their stay.

“
We need to take advantage of the daylight. I’ll go find wood for the fire and you can go ahead and set up the tent,” said Lance over his shoulder as he headed toward the trees.

Set up the tent? Tiffany felt the panic sliver up her spine. She’d never set up a tent in her life, and she didn’t recall any instructions in the camping books she checked out. This whole camping thing was way too much work. Tiffany unrolled one of the sleeping bags and sat down as she tried to visualize how a tent might be set up. Before she knew it, she was lying down and fast asleep.

Tiffany felt hands touching her, stroking her, pushing her hair out of her face and away from her neck. Was she dreaming? Had Lance returned? She sighed with pleasure.

“
Hey, sleepyhead. What happened with the tent?” Lance asked. He’d started the fire to ward off the chill of the early evening.

She jerked upright. The tent! She scrambled to her feet. “I must have dozed off.”

He ruffled her hair with his fingers. “Come on. We’ll set it up together.”

With Lance taking the lead, they set up the tent and arranged the sleeping bags inside. He opened her bag and took out a package of hotdogs, buns and marshmallows, which Tiffany arranged on a nearby picnic table. As they roasted the hotdogs over the fire, Tiffany began to think that maybe she was wrong about camping. Maybe it was not that bad after all.

As the evening wore on, Lance hadn’t made any romantic moves, and secretly, Tiffany was grateful. Every muscle in her body cried out in protest from the four trails Lance made her hike before they set up camp. She felt like she could barely move, let alone muster up the energy for sex. Tiffany reached into her backpack and pulled out a roll of toilet paper. If she didn’t go soon, it would be too late. The thought of having to use a public restroom had made her put off this visit for most of the afternoon. Ick. She waved at Lance then made her way to the old log building he’d pointed out earlier. Two little boys scrambled out of the place and ran toward their campsite.

Once inside, she realized the women’s side of the restroom was empty and she felt a flicker of apprehension course through her. She’d seen an old horror movie once where the hockey-masked slasher had trapped and hacked his victim in a vacant public restroom. Tiffany rushed into a stall, finished her business, then scrubbed her hands with soap and water at the sink. She shuddered as fearful images of a masked slasher built in her mind, and she wished she were already back at the campsite with Lance. Grabbing the roll of toilet paper, Tiffany rushed out of the building, slamming into what felt like a brick wall. She brushed herself off, then felt embarrassed when she realized who she’d run into.

“
Sorry about that. I guess I need to watch where I’m going.”

He swept some leaves off her shoulders and pulled something out of his pocket. “Not a problem.” His voice was eerily emotionless.

A sharp, piercing pain in her neck caused Tiffany to gasp just prior to slipping into unconsciousness.

Lance Brody threw another log on the fire and checked his watch. Tiffany had been gone an hour. It was close to midnight. He decided to wait a few more minutes then go check on her. For a woman who claimed she was an avid camper, Tiffany certainly seemed out of her element. She had even struggled setting up the tent with him. While on the trails, she had been so out-of-breath, he thought he was going to have to carry her.

Lance lay on his back
, gazing at the glittering lights scattered across the night sky, and thought about the first time he’d noticed Tiffany. She was waiting outside the Ed Psych classroom. He’d pegged her as one of the pampered sorority girls on campus, and had steered clear of her. Tiffany was a pretty distraction, but he had no burning desire to become another notch on her bedpost. Lance had heard rumors that her sorority sisters had some kind of a sexual conquest contest going and he wanted no part of it. Besides, he had to keep his grades up or he’d lose his football scholarship. Some of his classes were a bitch this term, so he had no time to toy with women like Tiffany. But all that was before Tiffany shared her vast camping experiences with him.

He glanced at his watch again and noted thirty minutes had passed. He’d lost track of time. He got to his feet and headed down the trail leading to the restroom facility.

<><><>

Blake pulled his bags out of his SUV, closed
the door, and aimed his remote to lock it. He nodded at the deputy parked in front of Jennifer’s house. The crime scene techs were long gone, as were Lane and the sheriff.

He’d wanted to spend more time with Jennifer, but not this way. Blake understood why Jennifer was so angry with Lane and her dad. She was a trained and armed law enforcement officer whose job was to protect others. The implication that she couldn’t protect herself ran against her grain. But he agreed with them. She needed protection and if they hadn’t insisted he move in with her, he would have parked outside her house in his SUV all night. There was no way Jennifer Brennan was getting hurt on his watch.

Most perps didn’t have the balls to break into a detective’s home. This killer was an anomaly with an ego the size of Mount Rushmore. The bastard obviously thought he could get away with anything. But if he thought he was going to get to Jennifer, he’d better think again.

Jennifer answered her door after his first knock. “Oh, I see my babysitter has arrived.” The sarcasm in her voice was hard to miss.

“
Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.” He moved past her, hung his garment bag in her coat closet and set his duffle bag on the floor. “Look on the bright side, I’m a damn good cook.”

“
You are?”

He grinned and nodded. “My grandmother is Italian and a retired chef. I spent every summer with her and she taught me how to cook.”

Jennifer eyed him carefully. She couldn’t remember the last time she had used her kitchen for actual cooking. Italian food? Her mouth watered at the thought. “Interesting. I’ll give you a tour of my kitchen tomorrow, but for now I’m beat. Let me show you the guest room.”

“
I think I’ll stay down here on the sofa. I’ll cover the first floor while you get some sleep.” Once he was sure she was in her bedroom, he checked the house again, testing the locks on each window and door. Peeking through the living room blinds, he saw the deputy was still outside in his car. He made a mental note to make the guy some hot coffee later. He sat on the sofa, removed his shoes, fluffed a pillow, and then lay down. He doubted if he was going to get much sleep with a killer on the loose, and his vivid imagination wandering to Jennifer upstairs in bed.

<><><>

Jennifer lay awake in bed staring at her ceiling. Insomnia strikes again. Was it insomnia or lust? Okay, lust. Lying on her sofa downstairs was one of the most gorgeous men she
’d ever seen.
One kiss had sent currents of erotic fire straight to her sexual center.
There was no doubt in her mind she was hot for him, but he was now her partner, which made the situation impossible. Add to that, he was living with her. How was she going to be able to keep her hands off him?

Thirty minutes passed and Jennifer was still awake, so she went downstairs to the kitchen to make some Sleepytime tea. She filled her teapot and set it on the stove burner to heat. Jennifer pulled out a jar of honey from the refrigerator and her mug from a cabinet. A movement at the door made her jump.

“
Sorry. I heard someone in here and thought I’d check it out. What are you doing?” Blake yawned and leaned against the kitchen doorframe.
In only faded jeans, he stood there with his dark looks and rippling muscles looking like a model in a Calvin Klein ad — tantalizingly sexy. The room heated a couple of degrees.

Jennifer’s eyes moved upward from his six-pack-abs to his broad chest. Something heated inside her and she averted her eyes. “I couldn’t sleep so I’m making some Sleepytime tea. Would you like some?”

Instead of answering, he pulled another mug from the same cabinet Jennifer had just used, making her wonder how he got so familiar with her kitchen so fast. He placed it next to hers and sat down at the kitchen table. She placed a teabag in each mug, poured in hot water, and then brought both mugs to the table. She added a dollop of honey to hers, and passed the jar to Blake.

“
Why did the killer target me?” asked Jennifer.

Blake sipped his tea and stared at her for a long moment. “I’ve been so pissed that he did that I haven’t thought about the why.”

“
I mean, how did he even know I was assigned to his case?”

“
Are you still thinking the killer might be one of us? Someone in law enforcement?” His dark eyebrows slanted in a frown.

She nodded and continued. “It all goes back to the way he knew how to wash away trace evidence. Now this. It hasn’t been made public who’s working Catherine Thomas’ murder. So how did he know I was? I don’t think we can ignore the fact he could be working for the sheriff’s office.”

“
I just can’t wrap my head around that someone we know and work with could do what this killer did to Catherine.” Blake said. After a thoughtful pause, he added, “Whoever he is, he’s not getting to you, Jennifer. Not on my watch.” His voice was firm, final.

There was something in his dark eyes that made her look twice. In that instant, she knew Blake Stone cared about her, and not just as a partner.

<><><>

Lance searched both the men
’s and women’s restrooms for Tiffany to no avail. Where could she be? He woke up the campers in the six tents down a short trail near the restrooms to find out if anyone had seen her, but no one had. Three of the campers joined him in his search, walking the perimeter of the log building searching for any sign of Tiffany. They met back at their starting point, each reporting he’d found nothing.

Lance walked back to the campsite thinking that she may have returned there, but when he arrived everything was as he left it. No Tiffany. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and called nine-one-one, then dialed another number as he walked toward the park entrance to meet the deputy.

“
Blake, this is Lance Brody. I need your help.”

<><><>

By the time Blake and Jennifer arrived at Rocky Cliff State Park, they
’d been notified by dispatch about the missing girl. A deputy securing the front entrance waved them through. Bolting out of the SUV, they reached the trail to the campsites in record time.

“
Who’s Lance Brody?” Jennifer asked.

“
He’s a scuba diver who volunteers when we need extra divers. Lance is a college student, so we use him as a volunteer all summer.”

“
So what’s your take on him?”

“
Lance is a good guy. He likes the outdoors, camps a lot and just enjoys life. He wants to be a detective someday; majors in Criminal Justice at ISU in Terre Haute.”

The main campsites were abuzz with activity, ranging from frightened campers, to crime scene techs combing the area around the restroom facilities inside the crime scene tape. Mobile spotlights illuminated the area. In the distance, deputies could be seen holding large flashlights, searching the woods, undergrowth crackling with each step.

Blake motioned for a young deputy, “Separate the witnesses. Get their names, addresses and statements. Make sure no one leaves until that happens. If anyone saw something suspicious, come find us.”

T
he deputy smiled, seemingly pleased with himself. “Already done, Sir. I’ve got their names, addresses and statements. Most of the campers were winding down for the evening and getting ready for bed. Two boys in the first tent described a young woman who may have been Tiffany enter the restroom, but no one saw her come out.”

Jennifer saw Bob Goldberg, one of her favorite crime scene technicians, just inside the crime scene tape at the restroom. She hurried to talk to him. “Bob, did you find anything?”

“
Shit, what a crime scene. The place is like Grand Central Station,” Bob complained. “There are more footprints than Advil has pain reliever pills. We did find a pair of footprints that lead to and from the service road. Looks like hiking boots.” Bob led Jennifer to the service road and pointed down. See those tire prints? They look fresh. I’m guessing they’re from an ATV pulling some kind of cart. I think the park service uses ATVs all the time to pick up trash and debris.”