The Broken (The Apostles) (23 page)

“Okay, what kind of car?”

“I don’t remember.”

“What color?”

“White.” Benny scratched the side of his neck. “No, silver, I think it was silver.”

“Like a spaceship?” Charlie put the lid on his hair gel. “Next thing you know you’ll tell me the guy in the silver spaceship was an alien and that you saw his face. Was he green? Did he have one eye in the center of his forehead and gills on his neck?”

“No. Nothing like that.” Benny’s voice was a squeak. This kid should give up baseball and take up drama. “I couldn’t tell what he looked like. He wore a fishing hat, big glasses, too.” His little brother took a step back, toward the shower curtain, as if he wanted to hide behind it. “But I think he saw me.”

“He saw you?”

“Yeah, I was standing there throwing rocks, and I felt someone looking at me. What if he comes after me?”

“He would abduct you and take you to the big green alien chief.” Charlie tossed the gel in the bathroom drawer. “Make sure you call the FBI and tell them in case there’s a whole army of little green men headed this way.”

“Don’t be stupid. I said it was just one guy.” Benny nibbled his thumbnail. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I should call the FBI or something.”

This kid would do anything for attention. “Gotta go, little bro.” Belinda was waiting.

“But Charlie!”

“Go tell your lies to Chief Greenfield.”

Chapter Fifteen

Sunday, June 14, 3 p.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada

H
ayden escorted Kate to the car. She’d been silent while he questioned Beth Watson about being at the press conference, but that wasn’t unusual. Kate disliked being out in public, and he knew the press conference had been hell on her.

And you too
, a voice inside his head added.

He didn’t like dangling Kate before the Butcher, but he knew their unsub. He was smart. He’d eventually find her, and Hayden would rather be at her side when he succeeded. Kate was holding up well, but she was made of tough stuff. She’d proven that at the press conference and during her run-in with the aging broadcaster, Robyn Banks.

“Do you think it’s significant that Beth was at the press conference?” Kate asked when they reached the car.

“Perpetrators often insert themselves into an investigation in a number of ways. Some follow the media. Some visit crime scenes. Some go as far as contacting investigators to offer to help. I once worked a case where an offender who’d raped and killed a twelve-year-old boy spent six weeks with the search teams looking for the child, who they found in the man’s bathtub.”

“You think
she’s
the Butcher?”

“We have plenty of
shes
in this case. The boy climbing into his bedroom window saw a woman, and so did the stalker. I’m not ruling out that Beth could be our killer, nor am I ruling out that she could be an accomplice.”

“Beth Watson doesn’t look dangerous.”

“Not for someone who’s good at disguise. Think about it, Kate. One of the Butcher’s hallmark traits is he goes unnoticed. He—or she—is a master of blending in, and it’s likely we’ve already shaken hands with him. Or her.”

Kate, who’d been picking off bits of straw from the front of her shirt, shuddered. “Like I said, it’s a messed up world.”

“Not everywhere. There are pockets of goodness, places where monsters and killers don’t exist.” Inside the car, she slipped her fingers into his hair, and he jumped. Her touch was light and casual, but it rocked him to his toes. He turned to her to see if she noticed the earthquake but saw that she was frowning at him.

“What?” he asked. Was she ready to argue again about a broken, hopeless world?

She jammed a finger at his head. “There’s not a single piece of straw in your hair, not a single hair out of place.”

“And this is important because?”

“Because I’m trying to figure you out.”

“Why?”

“Because I find you”—her lips flattened in thoughtful contemplation—“
interesting
.”

“Interesting?” He slipped the key in the ignition. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I bet you have.” Kate rested her head against the back of the seat. The press conference had been grueling and exhausting for her, but he could also see relief. Today she stood in front of a crowd and cameras, scars and all. She’d fought and slain one of her personal demons.

“People have called me some interesting names,” she added. “When I was six, my mother called me a hideous abomination that deserved to blister and melt in the fires of hell.”

His hand fisted around the key. The words, aimed at Kate and decades old, pummeled him in the gut. “She was wrong, Kate. She was an unhealthy woman, and the stuff that came out of her was sick and vile.”

She waved him off with a waggle of fingers. “I was more empowered than hurt. With all the passion and elocution of a six-year-old, I called her a pink, puky, smelly slobbo.”

He laughed. “Good for you.” Kate had guts. And heart. She was an amazing girl who’d turned into an amazing woman. He’d seen that at the press conference. He shifted the car into drive. And he’d felt it last night when they’d kissed. He’d been too busy setting in place the latest plan to snare the Butcher to think about that kiss, but now that the bait had been set, it was hard not to. Kate had been…Kate. Passionate and fiery. He shifted in the seat, repositioning his legs.

“That’s debatable. Kendra made me eat a bar of soap. But I’ve been called worse.” Kate slanted him a gaze. “My classmates in college called me the class whore.”

“Were you?” The question slipped out against his will, but this wouldn’t be the first time he’d slipped because of Kate. That kiss. The tendons in his hand tightened as he turned the steering wheel and pulled out of the parking lot.

Her rumbling laugh drowned out the revving motor. “Nope. With two jobs and a full course load, I was too busy working. I think some of the guys I turned down started the rumor. I didn’t lose my virginity until my first job out of college, in Lincoln. And there, by the way, I was called a hard-nosed, hard-ass reporter.”

The tightness pulling across his entire upper body lightened as he barreled down the highway. “A truthful assessment?”

“Damn right.” One of her eyebrows lifted in an impish tilt. “Okay, I spilled. Now what about you? What’s the worst thing you’ve been called?”

He checked his watch, glad she was less tense because now that the press conference was behind them, they had a lot of work to do. “Late, and it sounds really bad when it comes from Evie. She’s a fireball and knows how to swear in two languages.” He smiled at her. See, he could do light. “We’re meeting with her and Hatch at the cottage.”

“You’re changing the subject,” Kate said with a cluck of her tongue. “I’ve been around you enough to see firsthand how you manipulate people. Beth Watson, Robyn Banks, even me.” She reached across the car and slid a single finger along his jaw, and if he hadn’t been belted in, he would have jumped. “You hoodwinked me, Hayden. With that kiss on my neck.” The finger landed on his lips with a soft tap, and he swerved to avoid the shoulder. “Not that I’m complaining. It was good. And good for me. I was so preoccupied with that kiss I didn’t go into fight-or-flight mode before the press conference. You are the master.” She settled her hand back in her lap. “And now that I’ve reaffirmed your greatness, surely your ego’s propped up enough to talk. So what’s the worst thing you’ve ever been called?”

This woman was getting under his skin. And into his head. Because he’d just missed the turn-off to the cottage. He slowed the car, waited for a split in traffic, and spun a u-turn. He turned onto the dirt road, his hands gripping the steering wheel. And still Kate waited. “Soulless,” he finally said.

She laughed, a sound so loud and unexpected that the car swerved. “Whoever said that obviously didn’t know you,” she said with an audible smugness.

Marissa, his former wife, had called him soulless, and he never argued. “Some weeks I feel soulless, the weeks I get by with a few hours’ sleep, the weeks I hole up in a room analyzing evidence and reports and witness interviews. Makes me wonder if I’m more machine than man.”

“You are not a machine, Hayden Reed.”

He rotated the steering wheel and got the car back to the center of the dirt road. “You sound so sure.”

“I know you.”

“Really?”

“You have passion for your work, such purpose and conviction. That doesn’t come from college textbooks or stuff you learned at the FBI Academy. It’s an inner spark, something many people call a soul.” Her face grew serious. “It’s pure logic, Hayden. Without a soul of your own, you couldn’t combat the evil souls of this world and win.”

*  *  *

“Really, Hayden?” Kate asked as Agent Efficient flung back the shower curtain. “Is this really necessary?”

Hayden slipped his gun into its holster. “The press conference was more than two hours ago. The Butcher could be anywhere.”

“He’s obviously not in my bathtub, so do you mind?” She pointed at the door, and with another sweep of his eagle eyes, he left. Finally.

When they had arrived at the cottage, Hayden had insisted on performing an armed walk-through of every room. When she went to change her clothes, he triple-checked her window and stood outside her door until she came out in her cozy shorts and T-shirt. And when she decided to go to the bathroom, he was on her heels. She rested her balled fists on the sink.

If she weren’t so pissed off, she’d find humor in the irony that was her life. For the first time in years she was attracted to a man. She was trusting him and sharing a bit of her heart and soul. But the guy she had feelings for didn’t have
feelings
, or at least that’s what he thought…or wanted everyone to think. He called himself a machine, and to a certain extent he was. She pictured the switches in his head.

Flick.
Conversation about souls shut down.

Flick.
Investigation into Butcher turned on. Power level: High.

And there was nothing she could do about it, except help him with the investigation.

Kate found Hayden at the kitchen table, hunkered down before his laptop. Without looking at her, he pointed to a spreadsheet and stack of markers.

“Highlight in yellow anyone who made actual death threats against you,” he said. “Green is for those who made other threatening remarks, and blue is for anyone you feel had a grudge against you but never vocalized it.”

Analytical, methodical Hayden was at it again, this time wielding neon-colored highlighters. And the crazy thing was, she found comfort in the whole thing. As she picked up a yellow highlighter, she wondered how much of her attraction to Hayden was because she felt safe with him. Without him she could never have stood in front of the crowd and cameras.

She flicked off the lid and ran her finger down the first column of the spreadsheet. When Hayden first connected her attack to the Butcher slayings, he’d done a significant amount of research into every aspect of her life in his effort to track her down, including an exhaustive study of her job. He’d put together a spreadsheet of every story she’d worked on for five years before her attack, and her job was to determine who on this list wanted her dead.

The first name that came to mind wasn’t in one of Hayden’s neat columns. She chewed the cap of the highlighter.

Hayden, whose face was hidden behind his computer screen, didn’t look up. “Who?”

No, Hayden. You can’t read my mind.
“Kendra. She hated me, told me so on a regular basis, and she said frequently she wished I’d never been born. Plus, she had Jason under her thumb.”

“Your mother was at a low level of functioning. She didn’t have the ability to plan and execute an attack.”

“How about Robyn Banks? You saw the love between us today. And she was at my place the night of my attack. You don’t think she’s lying about why she came, do you?”

“She came to see you about a story, but that wasn’t the complete truth.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Her right hand twitched.”

“And everyone whose right hand twitches is lying?”

“Not necessarily, but it’s an indicator for her. When she told me she was thirty-five years old, her right hand twitched. She was lying. She’s forty-three.”

“Did she lie about anything else in the interview?”

“No, that’s it.”

He was amazing, and she was surprised it took him five months to find her. But to her credit, she’d covered her tracks well. “You, Hayden Reed, are not a normal man,” she said with equal parts awe and irritation.

He finally looked up from the computer, a hint of a smile curving his lips. “Have I just been insulted?”

He was joking.
Joking.
This man was driving her insane. Just when she was ready to accept that his heart was made of steel, he’d prove he was human. She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. Hell, she didn’t trust herself not to launch herself into his arms. Because then she’d drag him into her bedroom, handcuff him to the bed if needed, and finish what they’d started last night when she’d learned Jason was dead and her nightmare was over.

Smokey Joe was right. This was a crazy world.

She caught Hayden staring at her, his eyes warm, like liquid mercury. No, there is no way he could tell that she’d been thinking about handcuffing him to her bed. No. Way. Neither had a chance to say anything because Evie and Hatch arrived, and for the first time in a long time, Kate was happy for the extra people crowding in on her.

Smooth-talking Hatch had set up interviews with four of the boys at Hope Academy, and Hayden told her to get ready to go. He was still trying to recreate Jason’s days prior to his murder.

She stayed seated at the table. “I’m not going.” The academy made her uneasy.

“You’re not staying here alone,” Hayden said in that authoritative tone that made her want to pull a Smokey and hit him upside the head with a log.

“I’ll stay with Kate,” Evie offered. “You and Hatch can take care of the interviews. You’re better at the whole people thing than I am. I prefer to work with things that go
boom
.” The female FBI agent winked at Kate.