Shades of Temptation (17 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

B
RAD
WATCHED
AS
Tony Higgs and Nora
Lopez exited the café and walked to her car. He’d been watching the two of them
for weeks. He’d seen the way Tony toyed with the girl who clearly adored him and
then mocked her when his friends showed up. Brad was quite familiar with those
mocking glances himself. Had been privy to them all his life. Tony and his
friends hadn’t tried to hide their disdain for him. As if he was some freak who
didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as they did.

He wished he could take care of all of them. Line them up
execution style and watch the horror on their faces when he pulled out his knife
and began slicing their perfect faces to pieces. First his slutty girlfriend who
liked to parade around in short outfits. Then his friend who looked like he
feasted on steroids for breakfast. And then the cocky asshole who got off on
using and abusing poor little girls who didn’t know better.

But of course he wouldn’t. That would ruin his plan. He needed
to be smart.

As smart as he had been. As ruthless as he had been.

Things were finally making sense, going his way, turning out
the way they should.

He could feel the difference in himself. The inner
transformation that was taking place along with the physical one.

He wasn’t going to let anything, not pride, not impatience, not
jealousy or fear, get in his way.

He wiped down the table that Tony and Nora had vacated. The
glass of chai tea Nora had been drinking was half empty. Brad picked it up and
pressed his lips against the rim, imagining that he touched the exact spot she’d
drunk from.

He’d always felt comfortable talking to Nora. But in the past
few days, he’d started talking to his other customers, too. And they’d been
responding well. As if he were one of them. As if he were normal. He liked it.
Deserved it. Wanted more of it.

Soon, he’d have the nerve to ask Nora out. She’d look at him
with the same adoring eyes she normally reserved for Tony, but unlike him, he’d
return that affection. He wouldn’t hurt her or laugh at her the way Tony did.
And he’d make her see what she’d been too blind to see before.

That they were destined to be together.

* * *

B
Y
THE
TIME
C
ARRIE
MET
up with Jase at Sequoia College, he’d
interviewed almost twenty people in his hunt to find a link between Cheryl
Anderson and Kelly Sorenson. Hours later, neither one of them had come up with
any leads. No one had ever seen the two women together. And no one had recalled
seeing anything strange or suspicious where either woman was concerned,
either.

“So maybe they really didn’t know each other. He picked them
out simply because they went to the same college. But how can we narrow it down
from there?” Carrie muttered, more because she was thinking out loud than
because she was really asking Jase for an answer.

She’d avoided talking to him directly ever since they’d met up.
Had only communicated with him to share the facts and nothing but the facts so
they could avoid duplicating each other’s work. Yet she couldn’t deny the
intense pleasure she’d felt at seeing him again. Her body and heart always
responded to Jase’s proximity, but now that they’d been intimate, it was
difficult to keep memories of their night together at bay. Even worse, she found
herself getting alternately angry and sad at the thought of never experiencing
his touch again. If Jase felt the same conflicting emotions, he was doing a good
job of hiding it.

“We need to look into other ways to link them,” Jase replied.
“If we don’t come up with something soon, we have to seriously consider the
possibility of a copycat. There are more differences between the murders of
Cheryl Anderson and Kelly Sorenson than there are similarities.”

“But the similarity that is there, the cutting off of the
eyelids? It’s such a distinctive detail. I’ve never heard of that happening
before, have you?”

“Just because we’re trying to keep The Embalmer’s M.O. a secret
doesn’t mean some facts haven’t spread to the general public. Cops can get
sloppy, too. Talk to people they shouldn’t. Hell, The Embalmer might have
bragged about his crimes and gotten someone else interested.”

“That’s true,” Carrie conceded. “I can’t imagine he’d like that
very much, but it’s a possibility.”

“It actually makes the most sense,” Jase insisted. “The first
three victims all had light brown hair. They were all teachers of some sort.
Kelly Sorenson had darker hair and wasn’t a teacher.”

“There’s still the connection of Susan Ingram having Cheryl
Anderson as a professor,” Carrie reminded him.

“Yeah, but without anything else, that means nothing. So let’s
see what else we can dig up. Let’s look into where they’ve been. Things they’ve
bought. Movies they’ve seen. We need to request copies of their canceled checks
and look at their credit-card charges. Find out if there’s a link that way.”

“Okay,” Carrie said. “I’ll do that as soon as I get back to the
office. I’ll meet you there?”

He remained silent and for the first time, Carrie looked at him
directly. He studied her with an intense expression, as if he wanted to say
something. As if he wanted to push things. Not things having to do with the
case, but things having to do with them. She held her breath, not sure what
she’d do if he brought up the previous night and what they’d done, but luckily
he just nodded. “Yeah. I’ll see you at the office.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“I’
M
TELLING
YOU
, I don’t think she’s ready for this.”

Leaning back in his desk chair—which was actually Mac’s desk
chair—Special Agent Simon Granger focused on keeping his face impassive as he
listened to Doctor Lana Hudson. It wasn’t the first time she’d advised someone
to go slowly with Carrie. Apparently, she’d made the same recommendation to both
Mac and Commander Stevens before they’d decided to give Carrie the lead on The
Embalmer case. “I know what you told me,” he said. “But Carrie assures us she’s
fine and there’s been nothing to indicate otherwise. She’s an experienced agent.
There’s no reason to think she can’t handle a serial case.”

Lana leaned aggressively over Simon’s desk, her palms planted
firmly on the smooth wood surface. His muscles tensed at her proximity, and his
nostrils flared at her familiar scent. He struggled to concentrate on what she
was saying. He focused on her left hand, the one that still bore her wedding
ring.

“But none of her cases have been like this. The homicides she
handled were all cold cases. The rest, a domestic violence case or two. A family
abduction. Nothing so dangerous, so twisted, as a serial killer. I think it was
a mistake to give her such a big case so soon after the Porter incident.”

“She needs to move on and she’s earned this chance. Mac thinks
so and so does the commander. I’m not going to stand in her way.”

Lana straightened and shook her head in disbelief. “Fine,
Captain Granger.”

Captain Granger, my ass,
he
thought, frowning.
I’ve seen you naked, lady.
He
clenched his fists and ruthlessly pushed away the thought that he’d probably
never see her naked again. “I’m not a captain anymore, Lana. I’m just a special
agent again, remember?”

Lana paused for a moment, then opened her mouth to continue. He
interrupted her.

“I’ve kept tabs on her. Before she came back, she went to the
range twice a week. Her shooting is as accurate as ever.”

She still didn’t look convinced. “That’s true, but you know as
well as I do it’s not the same as pulling your weapon on the street. Lots of
officers draw their weapons. Few shoot it. We can’t be sure what happened at the
Porter scene, but bottom line, he got a drop on her. And then she killed him.
It’s too soon to know how that’s going to affect her.”

“Are you telling me you think she’s unfit for duty?” God, he
hoped not. For the case’s sake. And for Carrie’s. He didn’t know her that well.
Hadn’t allowed himself to.

Lana hesitated for several seconds. Then she shook her head.
“No. No, I’m not saying that. But she hasn’t forgiven herself for failing to
subdue Kevin Porter without killing him. Yes, she’s been healing. Getting
stronger. Still, I can’t help wondering if this case may be too much pressure.
Maybe you can give her more time....”

Granger. Only slightly more personal. She hadn’t called him
Simon since she’d broken things off with him.

“Well, unfortunately, time is something we don’t have.” Simon
stood up, noting that Lana immediately took several steps back. He towered over
her, but he knew she wasn’t afraid of him. At least not physically. He took some
satisfaction knowing he could still rattle her emotionally. In fact, he wanted
to do more than just rattle her. He wanted to crowd her. To make her admit that
she was still feeling the same attraction he was. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. He
needed her to come to him on her own. Still, he kept the desk between them. Just
in case he was tempted to reach out to her. “The only way she’s going to truly
get past the shooting is to get back to the job. To the team. She worked her ass
off to get where she has, and there’s no way we’re not going to support
her.”

It was a little strange thinking of himself as a SIG member
again, but he hadn’t been able to handle the change. He’d needed the action of
the streets. The challenge. So he’d given up his appointment to captain and
returned to SIG. And that had been the day Lana had broken up with him.

She stood her ground, but her features softened slightly.

“She needs time to deal with what happened, Granger. Whether we
like it or not, women are raised differently in society, and that influences our
response to certain situations. It’s a known fact that women are far more likely
to be affected by having to kill someone than their male counterparts....”

Simon didn’t buy it. Carrie needed to face her fears and move
on with her life. Just like Lana. “She’s strong. Stronger than most men.”

“Yes, she is. But people who reach that level, your level, of
discipline are generally obsessive. Big thinkers who need to control most
aspects of their lives. That makes them more predisposed to develop
post-traumatic stress disorder, which is exactly what she has.”

Simon let out a frustrated sigh. Returned to his seat. “Look,
we’re never going to agree on this. I know she’s blaming herself. Shit, we’ve
all had to deal with guilt at one time or another. But we’re more experienced.
We’ve had years on the job to deal with this kind of thing, to balance the bad
with the good. Shit, it was her first op.”

Uh-oh.
Lana’s eyes lit up, and
Simon knew immediately he’d made a mistake. By acknowledging Carrie’s
vulnerability, he’d only reinforced Lana’s argument that she shouldn’t be
working on a case like The Embalmer. Hell, he’d had the same doubts initially.
But it hadn’t been his call. He trusted Mac and Stevens’s decision and he’d
stand by them. He’d stand by Carrie, too. She deserved this chance.

But just as he knew she would, Lana continued to argue with
him. “You’re right. She was already at a heightened level of anxiety because of
the newness of the situation. Having to shoot someone on the job is always a
risk. Whether it’s the bad guy or an innocent that dies, chances are good that
someone’s going to. She couldn’t do it then, yet you’ve assigned her to a serial
case that’s bound to end up in more deaths. I just don’t think she’s ready to
deal with that.”

Simon immediately recognized the unspoken message behind her
words and wanted to howl with frustration. Lana hadn’t been able to deal with
it, hadn’t been able to live with the implications of Simon’s job, especially
once he’d chosen to go back on the streets. And he wasn’t willing to give it
up.

Rationally, he understood she was just protecting herself. But,
God, he missed her. It had been weeks since they’d been together. Weeks of
trying to forget her. And finally realizing that no matter how many women he
slept with, she would always be the one he thought of when he went to bed at
night and when he woke in the morning. “Lana…”

She cleared her throat. “So please tell the commander that my
recommendation remains the same. I’d be happy to talk to him further if he
likes.”

He stared at her. Her body language gave nothing away. Usually,
people saw only what she wanted them to see. But he knew there was more. He saw
the regret in her beautiful blue eyes. Echoing his own.

“All right. Thank you.”

She nodded. Looked at a point somewhere over his right
shoulder. “Goodbye.”

Refusing to respond, Simon watched her walk away. Again.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

C
ARRIE
HUNG
UP
THE
PHONE
and turned to
Jase, who was sitting at this own desk at SIG headquarters. “Well, looks like
you’ll have me out of your hair soon,” she said brightly, hoping to mask the
disappointment she was feeling. “My place is finally ready. I’ll have to shop
for a new sofa and stuff, but other than that…”

He nodded. “That’s great, Carrie. And they even caught the guys
who did it. Looks like you’re in luck.”

“Right. Luck.” The cops had gotten a positive ID on two known
gangbangers who used to run with Kevin Porter. That his gang had taken revenge
on her didn’t surprise her, but the fact they’d chosen to do it on her own
personal turf did. They had to have followed her to her house without her
knowing, and that reminded her of how vigilant she had to be given the kind of
work she did. It was too easy to let down her guard and pretend she was
safe.

Even though it wasn’t fair, her thoughts about the gang members
led her to another: Jase, and the way she’d let her guard down around him.
Granted, they’d only made love the one night, but each day they were together,
she could feel her defenses deteriorating more and more where he was concerned.
Talk about dangerous. Shaking her head, she stood and stretched her arms over
her head, trying to work out the kinks that had settled into her back. “If I was
lucky, we’d get a damn break on this case.”

“We’ll get there.” With that and one last enigmatic look, he
returned his attention to his file.

Days had passed since they’d made love and, amazingly, the
mutual desire between them had ceased to be a source of tension as they worked
on the more pressing matter of finding a killer. In truth, they didn’t have time
for anything else. All their energy went to tracking down leads on the case, and
when they had a spare moment, it was to eat or sleep. Though the thought had
occurred to her more than once that she should leave Jase’s house and check into
a hotel, it hardly seemed worth the effort, given all the time they had to spend
together. In a sense, they became the same person, the same cop.

That meant they shared the same frustration, too. It was only a
matter of time until the killer struck again. They were hoping that Kelly
Sorenson had been a fluke, that the killer would return to his more predictable,
slow-moving ways, but they didn’t really believe it. Something had set The
Embalmer off course, prompting him to deviate from his routine. Once that
happened in these types of cases, it was almost always the beginning of the
end.

“Let me know if you need help moving in that new sofa, Ward,”
DeMarco said.

She glanced at him. He was walking toward the doorway, jacket
in hand. “I will. Thanks.”

DeMarco had returned to SIG two days after they’d discovered
Kelly Sorenson’s body. When he did, it was clear something devastating had
occurred. He walked around with a dark cloud over him, blowing off any attempt
they made to make him feel better. When they finally asked him about Sorenson,
he’d stared at them with obvious shock in his eyes. “The brunette who gave Jase
her number? She was a hooker? And picked off by your serial killer?”

“A high-class escort,” Carrie clarified. “A picky one normally.
But her roommate said she left McGill’s around nine that night with a ‘charity
case’ of a client. Those were her words, not mine.”

“Shit.” DeMarco looked at Jase. “Did you keep her card?”

“No. I didn’t. But we got copies. She had two kinds. Purple for
social situations, green for business calls.”

DeMarco shook his head. “Figures.”

Carrie and Jase shared a confused glance. “What do you
mean?’

“I mean, despite the fact she clearly favored Tyler here, there
was something about her I liked.” DeMarco pulled out his wallet and took out a
small green card. Carrie immediately recognized the distinctive color and
cursed.

“Kelly Sorenson’s business card,” Jase said. “She gave it to
you after I left?”

“No. Worse. She disappeared after talking to us, so I snagged
it from the bar.”

“She left her calling cards at the bar?”

DeMarco shrugged. “I was talking to the bartender about her. He
said they were friends. That I should call her sometime. And he gave me her
card. Have you talked to him?”

Carrie shook her head. “Not yet. We’ve been working our way
down the list of witnesses from McGill’s. He hasn’t called us back yet.”

“You got his name?” DeMarco asked.

“Lance Reynolds.”

Now, Carrie watched DeMarco leave with a frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” Jase asked.

Carrie shook her head. “Nothing. But DeMarco doesn’t seem like
himself. And he seemed pretty upset about Kelly Sorenson. Like he really liked
her or something.”

“He did like her. So did I. She was a likable person. And
beautiful.” Jase shrugged. “If he took her card, he was obviously attracted to
her. Maybe he actually planned on calling her. It would be a shock, that’s
all.”

“Right,” Carrie said. “That’s all. I finally tracked down Lance
Reynolds. I’m going to talk to him. You want to come along?”

“You bet,” Jase said.

Once again, they found themselves back at McGill’s. Lance
Reynolds denied knowing what Sorenson did for a living. According to him, he’d
simply given her card to men he thought his friend would take a liking to.

“Had you ever slept with her?”

“Yes,” Lance said.

“But you didn’t mind finding her other lovers?”

“I wasn’t in love with Kelly, if that’s what you mean. We were
together one night. It didn’t mean anything, but we were friends, and I know she
liked to have fun. Who she liked to have fun with.”

“Did you see her leave that night?”

“I saw her talking to him and the other one,” Lance said,
referring to Jase. “She left soon after that.”

Carrie frowned. “What time?”

“I don’t know. Early. Maybe eight?”

“Susan Ingram says Kelly called her from McGill’s at nine.”

“I saw her leave at eight. I remember because I gave your
friend her card a few minutes later, then went on break. Maybe she came back,
but I didn’t see her. I worked my shift until the bar closed that night.”

That was something they’d already confirmed. And since the
coroner had estimated Kelly’s time of death as approximately 11:00 p.m., that
pretty much put Lance Reynolds in the clear. It also meant DeMarco had the card
with her phone number before she’d died.

Jase had wondered if DeMarco had planned to call her. But maybe
someone had called her. If they couldn’t find a witness who’d seen her leave
with someone, she’d probably have to check Sorenson’s call log to her cell-phone
number. That would involve filling out the appropriate paperwork and waiting on
the phone company to do their thing. Nonetheless, she added the task to her
already extensive list.

That was how things pretty much progressed, with them chasing
one lead after another but coming up with absolutely nothing.

One afternoon, in the midst of yet another review of the file,
Jase threw his pencil on his desk. He stood, stretching muscles weary from lack
of use. Both of them were very active. Used to physical exertion, whether it was
on the streets or in a gym. The back-to-back shifts of investigative work were
beginning to take their toll.

She was about to suggest he go to the gym when Jase turned to
look at her.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Her head throbbing with a persistent headache, one likely
spurred on by all the time she’d been spending looking at a computer screen,
Carrie leaned back in her chair and frowned. “Where do you want to go?”

“I just need some air. Let’s take a ride. I’ll meet you
outside.”

He walked out, not giving her a chance to argue with him. She
took her time, needing to remind him and herself that she wasn’t going to jump
simply because he snapped his fingers. But she had to admit, she was curious.
And excited to be going somewhere with him. Ten minutes later, she couldn’t take
it any longer and she met him outside. Silently, he led her to his car, a
gorgeous little Mustang that she’d always secretly coveted. At first, he simply
drove, luring her out of her dark thoughts with a little fresh air and scenery.
About an hour later, he pulled up near the San Francisco Zoo.

“What are we doing here?”

“Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”

There were myriad trails near the zoo that she’d run before.
She’d always enjoyed the scenery, and after walking several minutes, she felt
some of the tension leave her body. When they worked their way back to the zoo,
he grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the front entrance where he bought two
tickets.

Knowing how restless he’d started to become, she decided to
indulge him. They made their way past the flamingos and toward the red panda
habitat. At some point, he bought her an ice-cream cone and grabbed her other
hand while they walked. The casual gesture of affection felt foreign to her, and
she tried to recall the last time she’d held a man’s hand.

To her surprise, she wasn’t sure she ever had.

Such a simple gesture between two people, yet she’d never done
it? What a sad commentary on her life. What a sad commentary on who she was,
Carrie thought.

She held her arm stiffly for several moments, but by the time
they reached the chimpanzee exhibit, she’d finished her cone and had gotten used
to the feel of her hand in his. It didn’t take them long to navigate the small
zoo, and she felt the sharp pang of disappointment when they reached the exit.
She smiled at him.

“Thanks, Jase. That was fun.”

He shook his head. “We’re not done yet. Let’s get some popcorn
and do one more lap. I’m not ready to dive back into the case. Not yet. Are
you?”

She raised her eyebrows and said nothing. He was in an odd
mood. Playful and intense at the same time. She wasn’t sure how to deal with
him. But she nodded. Because, no, she wasn’t quite ready to get back to work.
Frankly, she was enjoying this time with him too much.

They viewed the animal exhibits a second time. Ate popcorn.
Even held hands again, like teenagers at the county fair.

“So about this new sofa you’re going to get? You have anything
in mind?”

Startled, she looked at him, unable to believe he actually
cared about something like her choice of furniture. “Um—I figured something
floral, like the other one I had, would be good.”

He smiled slightly. “Yeah, I noticed you go for the flowery
stuff.”

“Surprised you, huh?”

“Yes. And, no,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“It surprised me that you’d like a flowery sofa. It didn’t
surprise me that you’d keep something like that a secret.”

She stopped in her tracks. “A secret? Because I didn’t
advertise it? Listen, Jase—”

He tsked and, making her heart thud against his chest, raised
their clasped hands to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “I’m going to miss
you,” he said quietly.

She stared at him blankly, struggling over what to say, but the
words didn’t come easily. Finally, she managed, “Don’t be silly. You’ll see me
all the time. We have this case to finish.”

He shrugged. “It won’t be the same. But tell you what, if you
need help moving your sofa and DeMarco’s not available, feel free to call me,
too. That goes double if you want to talk about the punks the police caught. If
you want to talk about
anything.
Okay?”

With that, he started walking again.

“Yeah, sure,” she responded softly. They took a few steps
before she did something completely out of character for her. She raised their
still-joined hands in turn and, just as he’d done, kissed his fingers. “Thanks,
Jase. You’ve been a good friend through all this.”

“We’ll work on your definition of friendship later, Carrie.
Now, let’s head to the parrot cage. I wanna see if I can get ’em to talk
again.”

It was an amazing couple of hours that managed to push darker
thoughts out of their heads. At least for a brief moment in time.

On the drive back to work, however, the pleasant haze that had
surrounded her began to fade. Inevitably, her thoughts returned to work and all
the dead ends they’d encountered. She’d heard back from all the local hospitals
and funeral homes she’d contacted and none of them had reported thefts of
supplies or unauthorized usage of their facilities. It was becoming more and
more likely that if The Embalmer was indeed performing gruesome procedures on
his victims, he was doing so in a private space, someplace he’d likely
retrofitted and stocked between the time he’d moved from Fresno to San
Francisco....

“He moved!” Carrie exclaimed.

“What?” Jase asked even as he kept his attention on the
road.

“The Embalmer. His first two victims were in Fresno, his next
two in San Francisco, with a year in between. I was thinking that the move
explained the year lapse, and that he would have used that time to set up shop.
Maybe he found a private place to do his work or maybe he renovated his house so
it could accommodate his needs.”

“Right. And that makes total sense,” Jase agreed. “Only he’s
done his job too well, and we can’t find where he’s holed up.”

“Even so, maybe what we need to be searching for isn’t his
location, but his identity.”

Jase frowned then slowed the car. He pulled to the curb and
shifted in his seat to face her. “Explain.”

“We know The Embalmer is organized and methodical. What he’s
choosing to do to the victims, embalming them and cutting off their eyelids,
presenting them in such a meticulous way in the photographs, it hints at someone
who knows what he’s doing. Someone who’s been trained for that kind of thing.
That’s why we’ve been focusing our efforts, in addition to anyone associated
with the college, on finding someone who’s been medically trained, like a doctor
or a mortician.”