I'm Watching You (22 page)

Tasha chuckled. "Front row seats to World War III? No thank you.
Lindsay, let's just get going. The house is gone."

A bit of the fight drained from her. Tasha was right. The house and her
dreams were gone.

Zack seemed to sense her shift in mood, but instead of encouraging her
to
leave,
he challenged her with his darkened gaze.
"Are you leaving or staying, Lindsay?"

Lindsay fumed. He knew she'd always wanted to look inside the
house. He was using the house to get to her. Well, he was mistaken if he
thought he could get under her skin again. "Tasha, I'm going to
have a look around."

Tasha shook her head. "Why?"

"I want to see the place," Lindsay said defensively.

Zack sipped his coffee as if to hide a smile.

Tasha shook her head. "Well, I'll take a pass. I'll
call you later."

"Thanks." She watched as Tasha and Rex jogged down the
street back toward her parked car, just a few blocks away.

"Are you coming in? I've got to be at work in an hour,"
Zack said.

Now very aware that she and Zack were alone and that she wore only her
jogging top, thin shorts, and running shoes, Lindsay felt her resolve fade a
fraction. But pride goaded her forward as she moved around him, careful not to
touch him.

The house was a disaster. Piles of construction supplies were stacked
high in the living room alongside unpacked moving boxes. Dust covered scuffed
hardwood floors and the paint on the walls was an obnoxious shade of avocado
green. She doubted the interior had been updated since the sixties.

But Lindsay could see beyond all that. The bones of this house were
excellent. Plaster walls under the green paint were sure and strong, the doors
were solid wood, and the hardwood floors would glisten once they were sanded
and refinished. The large bay window in the living room looked even better from
the inside and once it was cleaned would allow sunlight to fill the room.

She moved down the center hallway to a kitchen in the back. Zack had
furnished the room with a retro Formica kitchen table that had a funky
appealing style to it. Knowing Zack, he'd chosen it more for utility than
style, but it fit the kitchen perfectly. On the kitchen counter, a modern
coffeepot simmered fresh coffee.

Except for the refrigerator, which she'd bet was empty, the
appliances were outdated and would need replacing sooner than later, but
morning sunlight streamed into the room through the large picture window. It
would be a bright cheery room once it was updated.

Seeing this place stirred dreams of children and laughter. For a moment,
emotion tightened her throat. "You've got yourself a winner
here."

"That's what I thought." The deep timber of his voice
sunk into her bones.
"By the way, happy
birthday."

It surprised her he'd remembered. "Thanks."

"Are you doing anything special?"

"No. This week's a little out of control."

"An understatement."

She moved to the window over the sink and studied the backyard. It was a
patch of weeds, and the oak tree way in the back needed serious trimming, but already
she could picture marigolds and geraniums brightening up the darkness.

"Any suggestions for remodeling?"
He stood so close she could smell
the scent of his soap.

She had tons. Mentally, she'd already painted the living room a
pale yellow and arranged her furniture to catch the light. She stopped her
train of thought.

This house and the dreams that came with it were from a life she'd
had to let go. "No, this is your gig. I'm going to have to find
another dream house." And that thought triggered a swell of emotion. She
hadn't realized how often she'd dreamed about this
house--about turning it into a real home.
With Zack.

He brushed against her as he reached around her and set his coffee cup
on the counter. The electricity from his touch startled her. It had been so
long since he'd touched her and she felt half starved for contact. Sexual
energy burned inside her.

"Part of the reason I bought this house was that you loved it so
much. I remember how you used to talk about the yard, the gardens."

"I'm not sure what to make of that comment, Zack." Her
voice sounded husky. And she wanted to touch him.

"I've dreamed of us living in this house too." His
voice was raspy with emotion.

She met his gaze and, in a rare moment, saw the strong emotions he held
on to so tightly. She nearly went to him.

And then she caught herself.

Tasha was right. This was a mistake. "I'd better go."

Lindsay pushed past Zack and headed toward the front door. She had her
hand on the doorknob.

"Lindsay, don't go."

She hesitated, realizing how much she wanted to stay. She turned and
took a step toward him.

He moved with purposeful steps down the hallway, closing the distance
between them. Their faces were only inches apart.

Her heart pounded hard against her chest, its beat filling her ears. She
was certain he could hear it.

As their gazes held, she felt a change in the atmosphere. He wanted to
kiss her. And she wanted to kiss him.

This is stupid,
she thought, yet she didn't move away.

Leaning forward, he kissed her. The kiss was soft, gentle, a testing of
the waters, but it was enough to set her on fire. She wrapped her arms around
his neck and kissed him back. Warm lips molded against hers.

Zack pressed her back against the door, deepening the kiss. A calloused
hand slid up under her tank top and cupped her breast and teased her nipple
into a hard peak. Sexual desire exploded. She moaned her pleasure and pushed
her tongue into his mouth.

This doesn't mean anything. This
isn't reconciliation. This is purely about sexual release.

And the need for sexual fulfillment overrode everything. Lindsay refused
to think about tomorrow, this damn house, or her messed-up childhood. She just
wanted sex and the temporary ecstasy it promised.

Zack moved his mouth to the base of her neck as he pressed his body
against her. His hand slid from her breast down to her flat stomach. His
fingers moved under the waistband of her shorts to the nest of hair. He
explored her moist, tender flesh and she thought she'd explode.

She cupped his buttocks with her hands and then slid her hands over his
hard, flat stomach. It felt so good to touch him, as if she had come home.

She reached for the buckle of his belt and unfastened it, then unhooked
the button on his pants. She pushed the fabric away and wrapped her hands
around the smooth hardness of his erection.

Zack kissed her harder, driving his tongue deep into her mouth. A deep
primal groan rumbled in his throat. "I've dreamed about
this," he murmured.

So had she but she couldn't speak the words out loud. Her hesitation
had him pulling back to study her face. Rigid control held his lovemaking at
bay. "Do you want this, Lindsay?"

She didn't want to think. She just wanted to feel.

But he seemed to need to hear the words. "Do you want this?"

She moistened her lips, which now tasted of him. "Yes. I want
this."

Those words were all Zack needed to hear. He yanked her shorts and
panties down, exposing her. She was moist, ready. He pressed his erection
against her and kissed her on the lips. His kisses trailed down her neck to her
cleavage. He licked the top of her breasts. This was strictly about sexual
need, she told herself.

"God, I've missed you." His warm breath brushed
against her cheek as he spoke.

The need in her had built to a fever pitch. The pulse in her loins had
robbed her of everything other than the desire for fulfillment. She stepped out
of her shorts and panties and pressed her body against his. "Don't
make me wait any more."

His kiss devoured her lips, and then in one swift move he lifted her off
the floor as if she weighed nothing. He pressed her back against the door and
she wrapped her legs around his waist and guided his erection to her. He drove
into her. For a moment, she was overwhelmed by the sensation of him stretching
inside her. Seeming to sense this, he went still and waited for her to become
accustomed to him.

She dug her fingers into his back as he started to slowly move inside
her.

Desire built and then she dropped her head against the door as the first
spasms rolled over her and rocketed through her body. Within seconds a violent
orgasm washed over her.

Zack pushed harder into her.
Faster and faster.
Tension racked every muscle in his body and he pushed in to the hilt. And then
he stiffened and came inside her.

He collapsed against her and rested his face in the crook of her neck.
Neither moved.
Their hearts hammered in their chests. His
breath felt warm and soothing against her skin.

For a brief moment, she felt at peace, as if everything in the world
made sense.

But as the seconds clicked away, the passion faded. And as quickly as it
had risen, it vanished. Even with him close against her, she felt a chill as
the full emotional impact of what they'd done sank in. They'd had
sex.

Unprotected sex.
No birth control. Jesus,
she'd lost her mind.

Lindsay shifted under his weight.
"Zack."

His breathing had slowed to a lazy pace. "Yes."

She tried to wriggle out from under his weight. "This was a
mistake, Zack. It shouldn't have happened."

He nuzzled her neck. "It didn't feel like a mistake. It felt
pretty damn incredible."

God, she'd been so stupid. Tasha had just warned her not to come
into the house but she didn't listen. "Zack, I need to go."

He raised his head and held her gaze. He looked confused.
"Why?"

"I just need to go."

"Stay."

She pushed him away and yanked up her panties and shorts.
"I've got to go."

He stepped back and jerked up his undershorts and trousers.
"Don't just run away, Lindsay.
I want to talk
about this. There's too much between us that
needs
to be dealt with."

Panic rumbled inside her. "I don't want to talk."

"We have to talk."

"I can't. I can't love you again. I
can't."

"Lindsay, please stay."

"No." She fumbled for the doorknob, turned it, and rushed
outside. The heat and humidity had already burned through the crisp morning air.

She hurried down the three steps. Her legs felt like rubber, and she
needed to keep her gaze trained ahead. And still, she turned to look at him
again.

Zack stood in the doorway. His shirt was untucked as he ran fingers
through his dark hair.
He
expression looked stricken.

"Let me drive you to your car," Zack said.

She needed to get as far away from Zack as she could. She would not
allow herself to trust him again. He would never hurt her again. "No.
Thanks."

He came out onto the front porch and halfway across the yard.
"Lindsay, use some common sense."

Hysterical laughter bubbled in her chest. She'd lost all her
common sense. She felt like she was losing her mind.

She turned and started to run, picking up her pace as if her life
depended on it.

God help her.

She still loved Zack.

But this time, she didn't look back.

Wednesday, July 9, 8:10
A.M
.

As Zack drove in to work, he was in a foul mood
when his cell phone rang. Sex with Lindsay had been better than he could have
imagined. And for a moment he'd thought their troubles were behind them
and they would find a way back together. And then she'd panicked and
bolted.

He took the Parham North exit off I-64 toward police headquarters. He
unhooked the phone from his belt and snapped, "Detective Kier."

"It's Warwick. We've got another mutilated
body."

Zack's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
"Where?"

"At Meadow Farm Park."

Zack glanced at the dashboard clock. "I'll be there in
fifteen minutes."

He did a U-turn at the intersection, merged onto I-64 east, and followed
the interstate to the Mountain Road exit. He pulled into the graveled parking
lot. A dozen cruisers, blue lights flashing, filled the lot. It looked like a
three-ring circus.

Zack got out of the car. Already the heat of the day was oppressive.
Sweat trickled down his back. He removed his coat, tossed it in the backseat,
and rolled up his sleeves. He headed toward Warwick, who stood outside the
yellow tape that roped off a colorful playground play set. "What do we
have?"

Warwick wore khakis and a black T-shirt. His gold badge hung around his
neck. "The call came in about a half hour ago. A jogger found the
body."

Both donned rubber gloves and put paper booties on their shoes.

"Ayden will be along soon," Warwick said. "The chief
is chewing his ass out. The county manager is going nuts. The area hasn't
seen a stranger murder in years and now we've had two in three days. It
looks like no one is sleeping until this guy is caught."

Zack followed Warwick under the yellow tape into the wooded area. The
body was propped against a thick oak tree. The victim was a white male in his
midforties with a shock of black hair on his head and dark stubble covering his
square jaw. His jeans and burgundy sports shirt were covered in dirt, blood,
and the thick scent of urine. His left hand had been cut off.

"I know this guy," Zack said.

"Burt Saunders," Warwick said. "He attacked Lindsay
yesterday as she left work for lunch."

Zack shoved out a breath. He hoped Lindsay had an alibi.

"He wasn't shot," Warwick said. His expression was
grim. "It looks like Saunders bled out from his wrist and a sliced
femoral."

"Jesus," Zack said.

Warwick pointed to the body. "He has pronounced bruising on his
right hand and around his ankles. He fought against his restraints."

Zack squatted, studied the body. "There's not much blood
here. He was killed somewhere else."

"Wherever he died has to be soaked in blood."

Humid heat clung to Zack's skin as he stared at the stump that had
been Saunders's left hand. "Look at the cuts. The killer
wasn't in a rush. He worked the guy over pretty well."

Warwick frowned. "And the victim is another connection to
Lindsay."

Zack was loyal to his wife. "Lindsay is no murderer."

Warwick's silence telegraphed his uncertainty. "Do you know
where she was last night?"

"No." He sighed. "Where is the guy's
wife?"

Warwick checked his notebook. "His wife, Gail, has a sister in
Blacksburg. I called there a half hour ago and spoke to Gail. And her sister
will verify that Gail hasn't left her sight since she arrived thirty-six
hours ago."

Two men who both were accused of beating their wives were dead. Both
wives had an alibi. Jesus. He didn't want to consider that they had a
serial killer on their hands.

"Is there a note?"

"No."

"Any sign of the hand?"

"Not yet." Warwick shoved the notebook in his back pocket.
"I reviewed the Channel 10 news tape from Monday. The cameraman caught
the edge of a vehicle arriving at Sanctuary and a delivery man sprinting to the
door with a flower box. The tape shuts off before he turns. I can't tell
what kind of vehicle it was and the driver is unrecognizable."

"You think it was the Guardian?"

Warwick nodded as he stared at Saunders's body.

The rumble of a truck had them both turning. The Channel 10 news van
rolled to a stop.

Kendall Shaw got out. She looked cool and sophisticated as her gaze
scanned the scene. A faint smile danced behind her eyes.

"Speak of the devil," Warwick said, staring at her.
"She's eating this up with a spoon."

"This story will be national by tomorrow."

Zack watched the reporter approach the yellow tape. The uniforms blocked
her advance. The patrolman would keep her out of their hair for the time being.

"Where is Lindsay now?" Warwick said.

The image of her fleeing his house an hour ago dug at him.
"I'm guessing she's at home."

"We'd better head over there."

"You're right. If the Guardian repeats his last performance,
she's going to get another hand."

"She also has questions to answer," Warwick said.

"Let's go."

The forensics van arrived. Sara got out and Kendall Shaw was forgotten.
The tedious process of data collection began.

As Kendall Shaw watched Kier and Warwick leave the murder scene, she tapped
a manicured finger against the side of her microphone. "Now why are they
leaving?"

Her cameraman, Mike, a tall burly man with a walrus mustache, hoisted a
camera on his shoulder. "Is it important?"

"He's investigating a murder and he leaves five minutes
after arriving with the other lead detective. You know he's married to
Lindsay O'Neil?"

"No shit?"

"Yeah.
I searched her name at the Department of Vital
Statistics. Their marriage license popped up."

"They don't act like they're married."

"Separated."

Where was Lindsay's husband going? She'd bet money that he
was headed out to find Lindsay.

"Hurry up and shoot as much as you can."

"I'm not going to get much. The cops have us too far back
and they've parked their vans right in front of the body."

"Can we get enough if I need to fall back and write a
report?"

"Give me twenty minutes."

"Good. After you're finished we're leaving."

"Where, dare I ask?"

"I want to go to Lindsay O'Neil's town house."

Mike lowered the camera, giving her a "you're a diva"
look. "And why is that?"

God, he could be so shortsighted. "Because," she said,
lowering her voice, "Lindsay O'Neil's husband just left the
crime scene and he'd only do that if it were really important. He's
worried about his wife."

Mike shrugged. "Okay. Whatever."

"Let's shoot those scenes and get over to
Lindsay's."

Lindsay lingered in the shower longer than she should have. But the hot
water felt good against her skin. And she hoped if she stayed under the
cleansing spray long enough she'd erase the memory of this morning from
her mind. She had soaped up her entire body and washed and applied conditioner
to her hair. Now, as she rinsed the conditioner from her hair, the hot water
started to cool. She'd drained the hot water heater.

After shutting off the water spray, she toweled off. Through the fog on
the bathroom mirror she stared at herself. "What insanity possessed you
today?"

She turned away,
then
dressed in a simple black
skirt and a white collared shirt. Normally, she didn't wear a skirt to
work, but normally she didn't have to cancel morning appointments to make
time for a meeting with Dana. She dried her hair and put on lipstick and
mascara before sweeping her hair into a ponytail, then headed downstairs.

Lindsay made a fresh pot of coffee. As the machine spit and hissed, she
stared out the back window into her garden. Normally, just staring at the lush
plants calmed her.
But not today.
Today she was filled
with a restlessness that made her feel as if she could jump out of her skin.

Sex with Zack.
It was the dumbest thing she could
have done.

Lindsay had sworn she'd never be like her mother. In college
she'd been labeled "ice queen" by the men she'd dated
on campus. She'd refused to get close to anyone, because no man was going
to ruin her life. Or make her repeat her mother's mistakes.

But the moment she'd met Zack, all her vows to keep men at
arm's distance had vanished. When she'd met him, he'd had
long hair and worn a small gold hoop in his left ear. He'd had a two-day growth
of beard on his chin and he'd reminded her of a pirate.

From the very beginning, she'd been drawn to him. She hated the
terms
soul mates
and
We
were meant to be,
but
both described how she'd felt about Zack in the early days. The ice had
melted, and for the first time life was filled with brilliant color and hope.

He was dedicated to his work. He loved catching the bad guys, as he
liked to say. In her mind, he was the warrior-protector. With him, she felt
safe.

Their third date had been a charity fund-raiser for the yet to be opened
Sanctuary. It was a pancake breakfast and she'd vowed to make and sell a
thousand hotcakes to raise money for the shelter. She'd had five
volunteers on board to help, and when two hadn't shown up, she'd
panicked. Zack had chosen that moment to stop by, and when she'd told him
of her dilemma, he'd rolled up his sleeves and started making pancakes.
He'd dazzled the crowds and was a better cook than she was.

They'd made love for the first time that night. And Zack had been
touched and humbled when she'd shyly confessed that she was a virgin.

After that their courtship had been quick, hot, and intense.
They'd met in March and by mid-April they were on a plane bound for Las
Vegas. They'd driven straight from the airport in a rented Jeep with the
top down. The sky had been a brilliant blue and the air warm.

Lindsay had been nervous but Zack had been steady as a rock.
They'd bypassed the hotel and gone to the Little White Chapel, ending up
in the Chapel of Promises in front of a justice of the peace. They'd both
worn jeans and she'd carried a bouquet of white roses that Zack had
purchased at the chapel. They'd exchanged traditional vows and in that
moment Lindsay had believed in happy endings.

But once they had returned home the tide had quickly turned against
them. Lindsay had thrown herself into the creation of Sanctuary and Zack had
returned to undercover work almost immediately. His case, which had involved
child trafficking, had required that he be gone for days at a time. When he had
been home, he had drank more than she had thought was good for him. When
she'd mentioned his drinking to him, he'd told her to back off. His
anger had felt like a betrayal and she'd fallen into her old
habit--she'd retreated into herself.

Zack had apologized. She'd accepted his apology. He'd
confessed that the case wasn't going well--that he'd seen
things that could never be erased from his mind. She'd tried to
understand. They'd made love and she'd thought that was the end of
it. But within days he had been drinking again and they had been fighting
again.

As quickly as they'd fallen in love, they'd seemed to have
fallen out of love. The wall that had risen between them felt unbreakable.

And then this morning Zack had touched her, and her vows to guard her
heart had evaporated. In those explosive moments, there'd only been the
heat of his touch and the pulse of desire in her body.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Yesterday, she'd spoken to Nicole about options regarding
pregnancy. She'd sounded so reasonable and so calm. But now that she
faced the same problem, black and white faded to gray. Her hands slid
protectively to her stomach. What if she was pregnant?

Lindsay halted her dangerous train of thought. "Don't borrow
trouble."

After clicking off the coffee machine, she got her purse. She had no
time to spare if she was going to get downtown for her nine o'clock
meeting with Dana.

She headed outside, closed the door behind her, and clicked the dead
bolt into place. This time she pocketed the key, instead of putting it under
the flower pot.

Dashing down the walk, she spotted the morning paper.
"Finally."
She reached down and scooped it up.

The instant she touched the newsprint, she knew something was terribly
wrong. The paper was too heavy and bulky, and it was wet.

She glanced down and saw the red stain of blood seeping through the
newsprint and onto her hand. Terrified, she screamed and dropped the paper.

Her hand was covered in blood.