Forbidden Passion (21 page)

Ruthie Mae’s husband frowned and cut his eyes toward her. “Lately she had a short temper,” he admitted. “Wasn’t like Ruthie Mae, but she became more demanding and.
.

“And what?” Dante asked.

Gene chewed the inside of his cheek. “Horny,” he said. “Ruthie Mae used to not like sex that much, but lately she wanted it all the time. I thought that was odd for a heart patient. I figured she’d be scared after surgery.”

Marlena glanced at Dante but he gave no reaction.

“Do you think she might have been seeing someone else?” Dante asked.

The big man shrugged, his look anguished. “Maybe. She was late a few times, and when I called the hospital, they said she wasn’t working.”

“So she lied to you?” Dante asked.

He nodded. “I confronted her a couple of times, but she blew up.” His voice cracked. “I’ve never seen her act like that. She even came at me with her fists.”

Marlena gaped at him. “Ruthie Mae physically attacked you?”

“Yeah, I swear she never was like that before.” He turned to Dante. “And before you ask, I never hit her. My mama raised me never to hurt a woman.” Emotions clogged his voice, and he dropped his head into his hands. “God help me, I loved Ruthie Mae. She didn’t deserve to die like this.”

“No, she didn’t,” Marlena agreed. It was obvious that Gene loved Ruthie Mae; he would never have hurt her.

“We will find out who killed her,” Marlena said.

“I hope to hell you do.” Gene glared at Dante. “If you’d found the son of a bitch before now, Ruthie Mae would still be alive.” Cursing, he stomped out the door.

Marlena understood his frustration and felt helpless. But he didn’t have to blame Dante.

Three women were dead now and the killer was still out there. No telling when he would strike again.

Dante watched Stanton leave with a grimace. He didn’t blame the man for being angry. If his wife had been murdered, he’d be furious, too.

Wife? Sweat exploded on his skin. He’d never considered marriage…

Shaking off the thought, he tried to focus on the case. He had been investigating, but he had to work harder. He had allowed his concern for Marlena to distract him.

No more.

He’d have Hobbs watch Marlena and he’d work around the clock. He might not have ‘trusted Hobbs in the beginning, but so far, he’d held up his end as deputy.

It was time for him to go underground with the demons.

It had been two days since Marlena had seen Dante. She understood his need to focus on the investigation, but she missed him.

And she hated that he’d assigned his deputy to guard her. Not that Hobbs wasn’t nice, and he’d made certain she arrived at work and home safely, but he wasn’t Dante.

Brenda’s journal and Gene Stanton’s comments about his wife disturbed her. Their surgeries, transfusions, an experiment, the missing blood vials.
. .
Could they all be connected?

On a hunch, she phoned Jordie McEnroe’s mother. “Mrs. McEnroe, this is Dr. Bender at BloodCore.”

“Yes, what can I do for you?” Mrs. McEnroe said in a tired voice.

“Did Jordie undergo any kind of medical treatment lately, a surgery of some kind?”

“As a matter of fact, she ruptured her appendix a few months ago and had an appendectomy.”

 
Marlena’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Did she receive a transfusion?”

Mrs. McEnroe’s heavy sigh echoed with anguish. “Yes, she did. It was really scary, but she survived.” The older

woman sniffled. “We were so relieved..
.
But now she’s gone, and in such a horrible, violent way.
.

Marlena’s lungs constricted. “I know, I’m so sorry. She was a sweet girl.”

“Yes, she was. I just wish that sheriff would find the maniac who killed her,” Mrs. McEnroe said angrily. “I’m afraid to leave my house. And business at the diner is terrible. Everyone in town is panicked, looking at their neighbors like they might be a killer.”

“I’m sure the sheriff is doing everything he can.”

“Well, it’s not enough,” Mrs. McEnroe said bitterly.

Marlena bit her lip. Dante was taking a lot of flack from townspeople about this killer. Something had to break soon.

The tech she’d left Dante’s blood with knocked on her glass window and she gestured him in.

He must have the results of Dante’s bloodwork. Now she’d know if he was related to the Valtrez brothers.

Dante had been searching the tunnels for the past two days, listening to the barrage of talk about Zion. He was the all-powerful leader. The demons had to obey his commands. The anarchy was coming.

And dammit, he hadn’t found Daumer or any connection to him.

He studied the photos of all the murder victims on the wall of the conference room again. Daumer’s shrine of horrors was there as well, along with every detail he’d uncovered so far about each of the victims, including their family histories, friends, job choices, and physical descriptions.

So far, the only connection he’d found was that Jordie and Ruthie Mae both had undergone surgery. But they had had different doctors, so that had been a dead end.

He’d also sent Daumer’s photo to the Feds and had one of their specialists compile a group of photographs suggesting what Daumer might look like wearing different disguises. The press had run with it, printing the photos across the States and posting them on every TV news broadcast available.

So far, several calls had come in, but none had panned out.

The town was in a panic. Everywhere he went, locals glared at him with hatred, as if he’d failed them.

Where the hell was Daumer? Had he moved on to another city to choose his next target? Or was he hiding out, biding his time, planning a surprise attack?

Planning something even bigger…

He glanced at the other board, where he’d posted a list of the victims and the blood types he’d requested from the ME. He’d also asked him to evaluate them for any abnormalities and checked tox screens but none of them had been drugged.

He glanced over the notes from the interviews of the employees at BloodCore but nothing stood out. Dr. Sneed and Dr. Raysen had impeccable reputations and references. Both had been written up in medical journals and were respected in their fields. Neither had motive to steal blood from their own lab.

His phone buzzed, and he checked the number. Marlena.

Shit, he’d avoided her for days. But he missed her like the devil.

And what if she’d received another trophy?

Bracing himself to remain professional, he punched connect. “Sheriff speaking.”

“Dante, it’s Marlena. I have the results of your blood tests.”

 
His chest tightened. “And?”

 
She hesitated. “The tests were positive. You and the Valtrez men are brothers.”

 
So they hadn’t been lying about that.

 
Another call beeped in. “Thanks for the information. Have you heard from Daumer or received any more gifts?”

 
“No. Dante—”

 
“Another call is coming through, Marlena. I have to go.”

He connected the other call, cutting Marlena off. It was better, he reminded himself. She was safer away from him.

 
“Sheriff speaking.”

 
“Sheriff, this is Jebb Bates.”

 
Shit. What did the asshole want?

 
“I know you’re avoiding me, but you need to make some kind of statement to the public. The town is anxious to know what you’re doing to find the Torcher.”

 
“I can’t divulge the details of the investigation without compromising the case,” Dante snapped. And compromising his secrets.

“I know you’re hiding something,” Bates said snidely. “And I also know that Marlena Bender went to see Sheriff Larson about her family’s murder shortly before he died.”

“How do you know she went to see him?”

“I have my sources.”

 
The damn weasel. “You were following her?”

 
A hesitant pause. “I think she’s connected to this killer, that her family’s murder was, too. In fact, she may have caused Larson’s heart attack. That is, if it was a heart attack.”

Dante saw red. “Leave Dr. Bender out of this.”

“She’s already involved,” Bates said. “And I intend to find out exactly how.”

“I’m warning you, Bates, stay away from Marlena. She’s an innocent in all this.”

“But you’re not.” Bates dropped his voice and adopted an ominous tone. “I know you’re not who you say you are, Sheriff, and I plan to expose the truth to the people of this town.”

Dante slammed the phone down, cutting him off. But Bates was ruthless and sneaky and wouldn’t give up. What would he do if somehow the bastard found out the truth?

The next few days dragged by. Marlena had thrown herself into her work, but there was still no change in the case. On the positive side, there had been no more murders.

But Gerald was still missing., If he was the killer, why had he stopped?

She wondered if he might be hurt. Or if he had committed suicide.

Dante had orchestrated a massive search for Gerald, spreading the word nationwide in case he had left town.

Dammit, Dante was still avoiding her. When she’d phoned with the results of his bloodwork, he’d been curt, almost rude, as if he didn’t want to talk to her.

They never should have made love. Had he been afraid she’d get clingy?

Well, she’d gotten the message loud and clear.

Damn the man. She wasn’t a clingy woman. Yet she had dreamed about him at night and craved his touch so badly it was driving her crazy.

But she’d never tell him so.

She noted the abnormalities in the genetic markers, as detected by the microarray system. The biosensor unit had detected unknown organisms.

She wished she had more information on the men. In her interviews with Quinton and Vincent, both men had professed to have supernatural abilities. Vincent had a telekinetic power. Quinton said he could read minds and had premonitions.

When she’d ask Dante if he had a power, he’d denied it.

Edmund poked his head in. “How’s it going, Marlena?”

Not ready to share what she’d learned about the Valtrez men, she shrugged. “The research is slow.”

“I noticed that deputy following you to work and home. Has Gerald broken into your house again?”

“No. I guess the security system scared him off.”

“Good.” Edmund’s eye twitched. “I hope he’s gone for good and the town will be safe again.”

“I’ve been thinking more and more about the missing blood vials and wondering what would happen if the blood was transfused into someone else,” Marlena said. “The sheriff found Brenda’s journal. She talked as if someone was conducting experiments with blood, and she said that she’d been a part of the experiment.”

“What kind of experiment?” Edmund asked.

“She didn’t elaborate, but she said that she felt different since she’d had the transfusion. And that he had changed. He was having blackouts and thoughts of murder.”

He shifted, rocking on the sides of his Italian loafers.

“Did she mention who gave her the blood or where this so-called experiment took place?”

Marlena shook her head. “No. Did she discuss it with you?”

“No.” Edmund cocked his head sideways. “I wish she had. I’d like to know the nature of the experiment, and who was in charge of it. If someone is crossing the line and the experiment is illegal, they need to be reported.”

He excused himself, then left to go to lunch, She dove into her work for another forty minutes. Suddenly the scent of smoke filled the air, and she glanced up at the glass partition and saw flames creeping along the floor and walls of the connected room.

She jumped off the stool and hurried to the door, but it was jammed. She yanked on the knob and turned it, but it still wouldn’t budge. Finally, she raised her foot and kicked at it, but with no result.

Her heart pounding, she ran to the opposite side of the room, to the exit. But when she pressed a hand to the wood, it felt hot.

The fire alarm sounded, screeching madly, and down the hail, footsteps pounded as employees raced to escape.

She grabbed the phone to call for help, but there was no dial tone. The line was dead.

Panic stabbed her as smoke curled beneath the door, seeping into the room. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a cough, trying to formulate a plan. Flames inched higher along the walls, crawling toward the cabinet of chemical supplies. Dear God. She had to hurry. If that cabinet exploded…