Profile of Evil (18 page)

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Waiting until dark, he positioned himself in a stand of trees outside the cottage, peering through the scope of his assault rifle aimed at Brody Chase and Carly Stone. Their bodies entwined as they kissed, it was a perfect shot. His finger trembled near the trigger. One shot and he could blow them both away. Such frugal use of a bullet and no two people deserved it more than these two. They were causing him some needless anxiety and they’d pay for it.

He’d fantasized many times of the exact way Brody Chase and Carly Stone would meet their end. In his basement, the sheriff would be beaten and bound inside a dog cage, forced to watch as he repeatedly raped and whipped his precious Carly Stone until she bled. He’d make sure she suffered, but the idiot sheriff would suffer much more. Brody would have to watch and he’d be completely powerless to do anything about it. Such a perfect plan. He couldn’t wait to put it in motion, but he’d wait until the perfect time.

A sound from his cell phone indicated he’d received a text message. Pushing away from the tree, he headed back toward his car so he could communicate with his brand-new, oversexed, preteen girlfriend, Amber Patterson.

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Chapter Seven

Sitting on the main house patio, Brody slammed his fist down on the chair arm and cursed. Then he chugged a second bottle of Coors and cursed again. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he really this afraid of getting involved in something that might be meaningful? What the hell? He was a guy who feared nothing and no one. So what was going on with him?

He was ten when he lost his father, and nineteen-years-old when his mother was killed. Even though his friends were partying and doing all the things that young men did during their twenties, Brody didn't regret a minute he spent taking care of his brothers. His first priority was their welfare. They needed him. Damn it. And any sacrifices he might have made, including a relationship, were worth seeing Cam and Gabe grow into the good men they'd become.

Was it the loss of both parents that had him running from Carly? Perhaps, he thought. He didn't need a shrink to tell him that he had loss issues. People he loved left him. People he loved died.

The screen door opened, and Cameron joined him, sitting down in the rocking chair. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Brody said angrily. "Not a damn thing."

"Just an observance, but it doesn't sound like nothing." Cameron pulled an icy bottle of beer from the cooler next to Brody's chair.

"Drop it, Cam," Brody warned irritably.

"Gabe said you were having dinner with Carly. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Are you distancing yourself from her like the others?"

"Maybe."

"You kill me, Brody. I know you want her. Hell, a man would have to be blind not to see how much you want Carly Stone."

"Think so?"

"I know so," said Cameron. "Just curious, but when was the last time you did something just for you, Brody? Doesn't it get tiresome carrying the whole damn world on your shoulders? Isn't it time you let go of this martyr thing you got going and really start living? Gabe and I are all grown up. We don't need, nor do we want, your damn sacrifices."

"Don't hold back, Cam," Brody said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"When's the last time you made love to a woman, Brody? And I don't mean the one night stands you have with women who live in any county but this one."

Wordlessly, Brody took another gulp of beer and stared into the dark night. Like he was going to answer
that
question.

"Consider what
you
want for a change, Brody. Forget what someone else wants or needs. For once in your life, take what
you
want. If you've got a window of opportunity with Carly Stone, then take the chance with her while there is one."

"Thanks, Dr. Phil," Brody said over his shoulder as he headed for his Jeep.

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Carly sipped the rest of her Chianti and fought the urge to smash her wine glass in the fireplace. She'd thrown herself at Brody Chase and made a fool of herself. It was a humiliating and deflated feeling, and her cheeks burned in remembrance. How in the hell was she supposed to face him at work?

The cottage was quiet, save for the crackle of burning wood in the fireplace and the soft, sultry sounds of Luther Vandross still playing on the stereo. Turning off the lamps, Carly lit two large candles on the mantle and another on the coffee table, then sat on a thick, soft rug in front of the fireplace, relishing its warmth. There was nothing she could do about the situation now, so why agonize about it? She'd handle it.

Suddenly, Carly heard a vehicle race down the driveway and screech to a stop in front of the cottage.

Brody burst through the front door, spotted her in the dim light and cut the distance between them with long, purposeful strides. Before she knew what was happening, he'd pulled Carly to her feet, his strong arms tightening around her body as he held her. The heat in his eyes startled her as he crushed his mouth down on hers. His mouth all but consumed her in a frantic rush of kisses, each hotter than the last.

Brody kissed her like he'd been waiting his whole life to do it. Pushing her to the wall, he pinned her there with his big hands gripping her wrists above her head. And again his mouth was on hers, urgent, and relentless. He wasn't asking this time. He was taking. And nothing she'd tasted in her entire life had been so delicious, demanding, and satisfying.

Carly moaned with pleasure and struggled to free her wrists from his hands so she could pull him even closer. It was obvious he was in good shape, but now she could get her hands on him. Running her slender fingers over the corded muscles of his back, dipping into the deep valley of his spine, she ached to have him naked, his rock-hard body against her. She tugged at the bottom of his sweater, and he stopped what he was doing to take it off. His impressive chest and abs were illuminated by the golden flicker of the flames in the fireplace, burning as hot as the one inside her.

Ripping off her top, he threw it to the floor, then he unzipped her skirt and shoved it down to her feet. Her body tingled with awareness as he appraised her body with a long, lingering look, taking in her full breasts, small waist, and long, long legs. It was as if he couldn't get enough of looking at her, and in response, wet, sexual heat flooded between her legs.

"You're so damn beautiful, Carly. I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you," Brody whispered in a low, husky voice that made her bones melt. "I've never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you."

His fingers skimmed up her stomach, sending quivers of anticipation shooting through her body. His warm hand cupped her breast beneath the lace of her bra, his thumb circling slowly, lightly over her nipples, and her breath caught in her throat. Sighing with a pleasure that came from deep within her core, Carly knotted her hands in his hair to pull him closer.

Unhooking her bra, he let it fall to the floor. His firm, wet mouth closed over her nipples, sucking, tonguing, and teasing until she thought she'd go insane with need. Brody's mouth moved up her throat, his tongue hot and wet, until he reclaimed her mouth with intensity like she'd never known. She felt the heat of his hot bare chest as he cupped her bottom, aligning her body with the hard ridge in his jeans. Rocking against him, she began an erotic grind as old as mankind itself.

She struggled with the zipper of his jeans. Wanting him flesh against flesh, man against woman, she had to have him deep inside her. She couldn't wait another minute.

Gently, Brody eased her down onto the rug before the fireplace and quickly stripped off his boots and jeans. Standing before her, he was six foot three inches of hard muscle with amazing biceps, sexy sculpted abdomen, and a hot sexuality that had Carly burning from the inside out for him.

He lowered himself to the floor, bracing himself over her body with his elbows as she adjusted her curves to the hard, flat planes of his body, pressing herself against the thickness of his erection. His body was shockingly hot over hers. Her over-aroused sex rubbed against the length of his penis, in surges of throbbing heat.

Brody sealed his mouth over hers, taking possession of it, and seducing her with hot, deep glides of his tongue. Stroking between her legs, he probed for the bud that throbbed with need. As his magic fingers slid over her sensitive nub, she moaned aloud with desire.

"Now, Brody, please," she cried.

Leaning on one arm, he pulled a foil packet from his jeans pocket, opened it, and made a growling sound in the back of his throat as he covered himself. When he shifted over her, she eagerly arched her hips up to meet him as his steel drove within her. She gasped at the force of it. Finally, she could feel him inside her, and a fire such as she'd never imagined seared her sexual center.

Rocking her hips, Brody pumped and thrust so deep inside, it made her ache until she felt a white heat in her core. It was building and building until she exploded with pleasure. Moments later, Brody made a violent thrust, shuddered and cried out her name. Slowly rolling over, he held her tightly against him until she could feel his heartbeat, and every breath he took.

Winded and breathing heavily, he said, "Just so you know, I don't do one-night stands."

Pressing a kiss against the pulse in his neck, Carly whispered, "What a happy coincidence."

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The next day, Carly presented her profile findings at Brody's roll call and briefing before each shift. Deputies and detectives listened attentively, each more eager than the next to catch their killer.

"Are you saying this guy has killed at least six girls?"

"Possibly eight," Carly responded. "Counting Amanda Jenkins and Sophia Bradford, plus the four victims identified through their remains, there are six identified victims and two possibles that are not yet identified."

Stunned, the group of law enforcement officers began conversing with each other. It took Brody several minutes to call them to order.

"Listen, I know you're as upset as I am about someone doing this in our backyard, but we've got to stay focused so we can stop the bastard," Brody said.

Carly continued from where she left off. "Here is a description of who we are looking for." She clicked a key on her laptop, and a list appeared on the screen behind her. "Our killer is a white male in his twenties or thirties who is in good shape physically. He works a five-day week and is off on Saturday, which is the day both Amanda and Sophia arrived in Morel. In addition, he has a female accomplice who was seen on surveillance picking up two of the victims at the Greyhound Bus Station. We have a still photo of her. Our unsub is an online predator who's patient enough to develop trust so he can persuade the girls to join him. He targets preadolescent girls who are having difficulties at school and/or with her parents. Lending them a sympathetic ear, he soon moves into romancing them."

Cameron got Carly's attention and asked, "Please talk a little about the way this guy thinks."

"We're dealing with a sadist, who enjoys sex only when his victim is experiencing intense pain and suffering. A big fan of pornography, he'll have digital and hard copies of it when we find him. There may even be photographs or DVDs he's made when torturing his victims in his home or place of work. Our unsub is into bondage, which is the hallmark of the sexual sadist. He's turned on by the helplessness of the bound victim."

"Are there any other ways we can identify him?" asked a deputy in the back row.

"Unfortunately, no. You're not searching for someone who looks like a monster. His appearance is quite normal, and after you catch him, his friends and neighbors will be shocked he's committed the crimes he's accused of," Carly began. "It's likely one or more of you know this guy already. He likes to hang around crime scenes to talk to officers. He wants to know what we know about him." The last statement caused several officers to frown as they searched their minds for anyone they knew who fit this description.

Brody ended the meeting by providing each officer with a photo of Alison Brown and the female accomplice caught on the surveillance tape. He assigned a house-to-house visit to discover whether any of their residents had seen the missing girl.

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Later in the afternoon, Carly, Gabe, Cameron, and Brody gathered in the conference room to make plans for their sexual predator sting. Carly tried not to glance at Brody because every time she did, she remembered every toe-curling, erotic thing he did to her the night before, and her face heated in a blush like a teenager. They'd made love once in the living room on the rug before the fireplace, and twice in her bedroom in the loft. Then in the morning, he'd taken her against the tiled wall in the shower. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. Though her mind should have been on the meeting, she kept thinking of every delicious thing she wanted to do to Brody after work.

"We've run online predator stings before, but this one will be a little different." Brody began. "We have two goals. Our first is to arrest any online predators who travel to our county to have sex with minors. The second is to use the online communication from Carly to catch our serial killer, who will try to lure our 'teen' to Shawnee County."