A Familiar Evil
by
Anne Patrick
Smashwords Edition
Presented by Publishing by Rebecca J. Vickery
Digital ISBN: 978-1-4581-6155-0
Copyright © 2011 by Anne Patrick
Cover Art Copyright © 2011 by Laura Shinn
Produced by Rebecca J. Vickery
Design Consultation by Laura Shinn
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
A Familiar Evil is a work of fiction.
Though some actual towns, cities, and locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Similarities of characters or names used within to any person – past, present, or future – are coincidental.
Dedication
To my family and friends for your continued love and support, and to my readers...thank you for joining me on this wonderful journey.
I couldn't do it without you!
You're out there watching me. I can feel you. What do you want? Why did you come back here?
Jordan Russell had the perfect life until the brutal monster from her childhood resurfaced, opening up scars she thought were healed.
With the hope of finally finding closure Jordan leaves her cheating husband, and her career in the FBI, and returns to where her nightmare began.
But what awaits her in Thorny Creek will push her to the very edge of sanity and bring her face to face with her abductor.
Chapter One
Jordan's heart raced as she stared down the familiar walking trail. Beads of perspiration peppered her forehead and arms, despite the morning chill. She expelled a deep breath in an attempt to calm her nerves then continued on the darken path toward the haunting glow of search lights.
"Sorry we had to get you out of bed so early, Chief Russell."
She glanced over at the young police officer holding his flashlight to illuminate the trail ahead of them. "That's all right, Rick. Who found the body?"
"Two hikers. Aaron Johnson and Greg Denny. They called it in on their cell phone about forty-five minutes ago."
It was the second body found in these same woods in less than a month. "Any similarities to the first?"
"Yes, ma'am. There is bruising on her wrists and ankles. And she appears to have been strangled."
Jordan wrenched. When she got the call she had hoped it was a lost hiker who died of dehydration—anything but strangulation. But deep down she knew the killer had struck again. "I want a lid kept on this, do you hear me?"
"Yes, ma'am. Only the doc and I know the condition of the bodies…well, except for the hikers."
Tourism played a large part in Thorny Creek's local economy. Nestled in the dense forests and lofty mountains of western North Carolina, it was an outdoorsmen's paradise. "It's a little early to be hiking."
"They said they wanted to get an early start up the mountain."
Jordan looked through a clearing in the trees and saw Darwood Peak, less than a mile away. With its base cloaked in darkness, only the summit was visible in the pre-dawn light. It was a favorite with locals and tourists alike, but seldom did people camp this far away from it. Not when there were full camping facilities located at the base of the mountain. "What were they doing this far from the campgrounds?"
"Wilderness campers. They got permission from old man Kramer to camp near the creek. He must be getting soft in his old age. He's never let anyone camp on his land that I know of."
"Did you run them for wants and warrants?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am. They're both clean. I've got Messenger watching them back at their campsite."
A hair-raising screech of a nearby owl caused Jordan to jump. She knew Rick had seen her reaction but was thankful when he pretended he hadn't.
As they drew near the crime scene, Jordan saw it had already been secured with yellow police tape and portable lights were set up. She ducked underneath the tape as Rick held it and saw Doctor Agnew Clever a few feet in front of her bent over the corpse. "What do think, Aggie?"
He pivoted around on one foot and glanced up. "Morning, Jordan. Same as the other woman I'm afraid."
Jordan exhaled another deep breath and knelt beside him. "How long has she been dead?"
"Two days max." He pulled the sheet back to reveal the partially clothed body of a woman in her late twenties.
Jordan lowered her eyes to the woman's hands just as the doctor moved a light closer. The small circular bruises around both wrists prompted a wave of nausea. She let out a slow silent sigh, rose to her feet, and looked around the area. Even in the dark, she recognized it. Less than a quarter mile away was the creek that ran through Judd Kramer's property, where the first body was found, and it was within a mile of the farm she lived on with her parents twenty years ago. When she was a kid, she and her friends had camped here often.
She walked to the edge of the clearing and peered into the woods that separated her from the creek. You're out there watching me. I can feel you. What do you want? Why did you come back here?
"There's no ID on the body. Shall I go run her description and see if we get a hit?"
Jordan gathered herself and turned to Rick. "Please. Hopefully, we'll get lucky again."
The first body had been identified from a missing person report filed out of Lawson, less than fifty files from Thorny Creek. Amanda Weaver, a musician, was reported missing by her family after she failed to show up for a gig at a local coffee house. Her car was found parked behind the building.
She shifted her gaze back to the doctor. "Can you tell me anything else, Aggie?"
"I think you know more about what's going on here than this body can tell us."
Jordan went stiff at his words.
He rose and came toward her. "Did you think I wouldn't recognize the bruising, Jordan? The same bruising I saw on a scared little girl twenty years ago."
She bit down hard on her lower lip. Her hand trembled as he took hold of it. She never saw her abductor. He'd worn a Halloween mask the entire three days of her captivity.
"You need to call your friends in the FBI, Jordan."
"I can't do that, Aggie" she said softly. If she did, her former co-workers would know the serial killer she'd been hunting prior to leaving the bureau had come back to where it all began.
"Did he follow you back here, or has he been here all along waiting for you to come home?"
"I don't know." Jordan stepped to the edge of the clearing, where she had been looking before. She could still sense the killer's presence. Watching—waiting. She considered a search of the woods but suspected it would be futile. By the time she called out her reserve-officers he would be long gone. "One thing I do know, I'm not that scared little girl anymore. If he wants to finish what he started twenty years ago, he's going to have a fight on his hands."
"Jordan—"
"Excuse me, Chief… Sorry doc… I've got Westmore PD on the radio wanting to talk to you. They have a missing teacher they think might be our victim."
"Thanks, Rick. I'll be right there. Radio Messenger and have him bring those hikers in for questioning, and then I want you to go see Mr. Kramer. See if he heard or saw anything unusual."
"All right."
She looked at Aggie, "I don't want any of the details given out about the victim…understood?"
"My lips are sealed. But sooner or later the locals are going to get wind of the similarities and make the connection."
"They won't if you keep your mouth shut, and Rick's too young to remember." Although her name was never released to the press because she was a juvenile, most people probably figured she was the rape victim after her parents moved her out of town shortly afterward.
"He's why you came back here. Isn't he, Jordan?"
"I never left, Aggie—not really—I've lost count of how many times I've relived those three days in my mind. Sometimes I feel I'd of been better off if I hadn't escaped."
He came toward her again, as if to take her hand or to hug her. She waved him off.
"I'm sorry to have to do this, Jordan, but I knew your parents before you were even born. Your dad was a very good friend of mine. Either you make a call to the FBI or I'll go to Seth."
Seth Gallagher was her cousin. He was also the mayor of Thorny Creek. "Fine, I'll call them." Hopefully she could divert them long enough for her to catch the killer. "Let me know as soon as you finish the autopsy."
Jordan started back up the dark trail, wishing she'd thought to grab her own flashlight. There was just barely enough sunlight to make out the path. Erie sounds drifted from the woods surrounding her. She forced herself to concentrate on the sounds of birds singing in the new morning. But their beautiful melodies did nothing to still her growing anxiety. No matter how brave she tried to be, the memories of her captivity always managed to steal what little courage she had lately.
Jordan thought back to Aggie's threat. She had feared sooner or later the doctor would make the connection; she just hadn't counted on it being this soon. The last thing she needed was an overly eager FBI agent sticking their nose into her case, especially if that agent turned out to be her soon-to-be-ex-husband.
* * * * *
Sam Russell shed his suit jacket and draped it over his chair. It'd been a long time since he'd gotten out of bed before dawn. But since he technically never went to sleep it probably didn't count. There was nothing worse than pulling night surveillance on suspected terrorists, at least not in his book. He'd been so wired with adrenaline that he couldn't lay still long enough to go to sleep.
His office door opened and his boss, ASAC Steve Haines, poked his head in. "Got a minute?"
"Sure. I was just about to catch up on my paper work. What are you doing here so early?"
Agent Haines came inside and closed the door. "I got a phone call earlier that you might be interested in."
"Oh yeah, what's that?"
"A request came into the Charlotte field office for help on a murder investigation in North Carolina."
"Why would that be of interest to me?"
"Because the request came from your wife."
Sam dropped the file from his hand. "What?"
Agent Haines sat down in one of the chairs facing Sam's desk. "It seems Jordan has been serving as the chief of police in Thorny Creek for the last six months. I take it you didn't know?"
"You know I haven't heard from Jordan since she left the bureau, eighteen months ago." He didn't really blame her for leaving him, but the least she could have done was get in touch long enough to let him know she was okay. It would have saved him months of searching for her. If her cousin hadn't called to tell him she was fine, he'd still be looking.
"Why is she in Thorny Creek?" he thought out loud. When Seth called he never mentioned she was living there, only that he'd seen her and she was okay.
"Why don't you go ask her?"
Sam considered his suggestion. No doubt she'd slam the door in his face. "How'd you learn about this?"
"When Charlotte put the case through VICAP they got a hit on a case we've been working that's gone cold."
"What case is that?"
"The one Jordan was working prior to leaving the bureau."
"Please tell me you're not serious."
"Wish I could. Jordan's made the connection too, or she wouldn't have requested the help."
"Who's got the case now?"
"Parker and Donovan did until an hour ago. Now it's yours. If my hunch is right, the killer thinks Jordan is much more interesting to elude, so he's changed his hunting grounds."
Sam prayed he was wrong. "Does she know her request has been forwarded to our office?"
"No. I'll leave that up to you to tell her."
Sam stood and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair.
Agent Haines snagged Sam's arm as he brushed past him. "Whatever is going on between you two, don't let it interfere with the task at hand. Keep your priorities straight, or instead of worrying about divorce papers you might be planning her funeral."
"Don't worry. I've no intention of allowing either of those things to happen."
"Good luck."
"Thanks." He had a feeling he was going to need more than luck on his side.
* * * * *
Sam called Agent Donovan on his cell phone and asked to meet him in the cafeteria. Donovan and Parker were already there when he arrived. He grabbed a large cup of coffee and joined them at their table near the entrance.
"Thanks for meeting me, guys. Can you bring me up to speed on that serial murder case Haines handed off to me?"
"Since when do you work serial killings?" Parker asked.
"Yeah, I thought espionage was more your speed."
Sam pulled out a chair and sat down. "Since the killer's gone after Jordan."
"What?" they asked in unison.
"Look, I don't have a lot of time here. My flight leaves in two hours and I still have to go home and pack."
"All right. He's been dubbed The Musical Strangler by the media," Donovan said. "He's been tied to the strangulation deaths of four women over the period of one year."
"How'd the media come up with the name?"
"Jordan made the connection that all the victims were music lovers," Parker answered. "One played guitar in some band. Two of them taught music, and the other was some kind of a composer."
"Is there any other commonalities in the murders?"
"Yeah. We believe they were all held hostage for several days before the guy put them out of their misery."
Sam didn't want to ask the question, but he knew he had to. "What'd he do to them during their captivity?"
"Kept them chained like animals and raped them repeatedly."
"How long ago was the last murder?"
"The last one took place three months before Jordan resigned," Donovan said.
Before Jordan left they'd known one another for eight years, five of which they'd shared the same house. She was one of the most dedicated agents he knew. Why had she up and quit in the middle of a murder investigation? It didn't take him long to figure out the answer. She left Virginia because of him.
Sam rubbed his tired eyes. He'd give anything to take back the last eighteen and a half months of his life. To right the wrong he did to the only woman he'd ever loved.
"What makes you think this guy has gone after Jordan?" Parker asked.
"According to Haines and VICAP this guy is killing again…in the town where Jordan grew up."
"I've been meaning to tell you how sorry I am about the two of you," Donovan said.
"Thanks." Sam looked over at Parker, "Will you go get me the files on the case?"
"Sure."
Once he was gone, Sam glanced across the table at Donovan. "You worked on this case with Jordan. How far into this guy's head did she get?"
"You lived with her, man. You know the answer to that."
He knew she wasn't the same woman she was before she took the case. She'd been a profiler for almost eight years, had mentally unmasked some of the most sadistic serial killers to ever walk the planet. Why had this one sent her over the edge?
"I've been with the bureau for almost fifteen years, Sam. Jordan was one of the best profilers I ever worked with. But for some reason she took this one real personal. I tried to talk to her about it, I could see she was heading into a bad place, but she wouldn't listen. You can only get so close to these guys before they start to rub off on you. Seeing as how you two split up, I don't guess I have to tell you that."
"The break-up was my fault, Donovan, not hers. I let her down. I destroyed the trust she had in me."
"In that case, I suggest you do whatever it takes to gain it back. That is, if you still love her."
"There you are. I've been looking all over for you."
Sam glanced up at his partner's voice. Agent Darcy Kent tossed him a beautiful smile as she handed him a thick manila folder. "I ran into Parker in the elevator. He said to give you this."
"Thanks, Darcy. I'm sure you remember Agent Donovan."
She extended her hand to the fellow agent. "Of course I do. How are you?"
"Can't complain." Agent Donovan stood. "I better get to work. Sam, remember what I told you."
Sam smiled. "I will. Thanks."
Darcy tucked a strand of blonde hair behind one ear. "So what's up with this message you left about going solo for a few days?"
"Haines has reassigned me to another case."
"Does that mean I get to go on vacation?"
He gave a dry chuckle. "Nice try. I want you to continue the surveillance on the Pakistani and if anything turns up, call Haines."
"All right." Her smile faded. "As soon as you get back, I think we need to talk."
"Yeah…we do." He shoved the file underneath his arm. "Stay safe, Darcy."
"You too, Sam."
* * * * *
He watched Jordan walk from her black SUV into the police department, adjacent to city hall. He'd been so close to her this morning he could almost see her facial expressions. He closed his eyes and visualized her walking along the trail. Her scent had lingered long after she'd gone, as if it had permeated every leaf in the forest. He recalled how she had peered into the darkness, almost looking right at him.
Had she sensed his presence? Was she scared? She had been the last time they met. He wished he'd been close enough to her this morning to hear what she was saying. Did she tell the good doctor about the last time she was in that section of the woods? Had she shared any of the intimate moments of her captivity?
He let out a contented sigh. It seemed a lifetime ago.
So many years had passed since that summer. His summer of discovery, he liked to call it. It was when the beast inside him was born. The hunger for complete dominance first realized. He wondered if Jordan knew she was responsible for that evolution. She had made him see his full potential, awakened a sleeping giant that begged to be turned loose on the world.
He scanned the street. People passed him as if he was invisible to them—but not for long. Soon, the whole world would know of the Musical Strangler.
Chapter Two
Jordan sorted through the mass of paperwork accumulated on her desk. She hated Monday mornings with a passion. An entire department, which the whole county depended on, looked to her for leadership. She had no business taking on that kind of responsibility, not when her life was such a disaster.
Why did I let Seth talk me into this job?
She was perfectly content doing odd day jobs around town, and working on her manuscript in the evenings, just to stay in under the FBI's radar. If she'd been smart she wouldn't have come back to Thorny Creek to begin with. It was the root of her darkest dreams. The birthplace of a fear she continued to battle.
So why did she?
Closure! She reminded herself.
She came back here to put an end to the misery she'd been living with for the past twenty years. She came back to Thorny Creek for revenge.
Three years ago, the monster that ruined her childhood resurfaced. She had suspected soon after the third murder, when she was first given the case, that it was the same person who had abducted her when she was twelve. And she knew the only way to catch him was to return to where it all began. What she hadn't counted on was him following her back here. Surely he knew that by coming back to Thorny Creek she would expose him eventually.
Was that his plan all along? Had he lured her here on purpose?
A knock at her door caused her to jump. She looked up and saw her dispatcher/receptionist smiling at her through the glass. Jordan motioned for her to enter.
"There's a Mr. Frank Rogers here to see you."
The name struck a familiar cord. Jordan had three best friends in grade school. There was Ellie, who was now married to her cousin, Seth. Ellie's brother, Barry, and Lizzie Rogers. "Send him in. Thanks, Colleen."
"You're welcome."
Jordan stood just as the door opened. A man wearing a generous smile, with salt and pepper hair, walked toward her desk. She almost didn't recognize the man. He looked much older than a man in his late fifties, the age she suspected he was. "Mr. Rogers, this is a nice surprise." According to the rumor mill, he'd left Thorny Creek four years ago after his wife served him with divorce papers.
He stopped at the edge of her desk and offered his hand. "Jordan, I never thought I'd see you sitting behind this desk."
She noticed his bruised knuckles and recalled a disturbance report at the bar and grill where the victim had refused to press charges. "Neither did a lot of other people, including me. Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?" She sat down; picked up the pencil she'd been chewing on. It was a poor substitute for her nicotine addiction she'd given up three months ago.
"Well, I hope you can give me back my old job." He laid an application on her desk.
Jordan pretended not to be surprised by his request. He'd been a cop as far back as she could remember, but had resigned a short time after his divorce. Jordan wondered if the rumors Ellie had mentioned in her letters had played a part in his resignation and divorce. She herself had never believed any of them. The news that Lizzie ran away from home at thirteen wasn't nearly as shocking as the rumors that Frank had abused his stepdaughter. If there had been any truth to it, Lizzie would have told her. From what she could remember of the relationship, they had always gotten along very well—better than most father and daughters—he had even adopted her, giving her his last name.
Maybe he's seeking retribution too. "To be honest, Mr. Rogers—"
"Please, call me Frank."
She smiled. "Frank. To be honest, with all the budget cuts I'm not sure I can afford to hire anyone. But I could sure use the help."
"Yeah, I heard. Rumors are the deaths are connected."
"Between you and me, they're correct."
"Listen, I'm willing to start out at what I was making when I quit, or you can go lower than that if you have to."
She mentally went over her budget. They really needed a new copier, and she had promised Rick a pay raise before summer."
"I really need a job, Jordan. No one around here will hire me."
His long face tore at her heartstrings. When she was a kid, he'd been like a second father to her. She picked up the application and scanned over it. His last place of employment was with the Forestry Department at Mount Heron. And he had made more than she could afford to pay him. "Why did you come back here, Frank?"
"I could ask you that same question. I don't think either one of us ever imagined we'd come back here. The truth is I'm still in love with Beth, and I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get her back."
"I was sorry to hear about the two of you splitting up."
"Thank you. It was real hard after Lizzie took off. I think we blamed each other for her running away. The rumors didn't help."
"No, I don't imagine they did. Well, let me do some number crunching and I'll give you a call in a few days to let you know my decision."
"Thanks, Jordan." He offered his hand again.
She glanced briefly at his bruised knuckles. "Care to explain those?"
"Don't worry. It won't happen again."
"All right. I'll give you a call in a few days."
He started to the door and Jordan returned her attention to the mountain of paper work on her desk.
"Excuse me. I'm looking for Chief Russell."
Jordan's stomach did a nosedive at the familiar voice of her soon-to-be-ex-husband.
"You found her," Frank answered.
Jordan looked up just as Sam smiled. "Indeed I have." He started toward her desk.
Colleen barged through the opened door. "Chief, there's an Agent Russell here to see…oh, I guess you found her."
"Agent Russell," Frank repeated. He turned back to Jordan, "Isn't Russell your married name?" He then shifted his gaze back to Sam, "That must mean you're her husband."
"Not for much longer." Jordan hurried around her desk and ushered Frank out the door. "You'll be hearing from me." She closed the door and looked at Sam. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here at your request."
"I specifically requested someone from the Charlotte field office." Anyone but him.
He looked at her with the gorgeous smile that used to make her go weak in the knees. "And they forwarded that request to Agent Haines, who assigned me."
"We'll see about that." Jordan marched back to her desk, and was four digits into Haines' cell phone number when Sam pressed his finger down on the button and disconnected the call. Eighteen and a half months of built-up rage boiled to the surface. She doubled her right fist and spun around with lighting fury.
Sam, just as quick, stopped the fist within inches of his jaw. With his free hand, he took the phone from her left hand and placed it back in its cradle. Jordan felt his hot breath on her face as he peered down at her, and was keenly aware of the heat generating from his body through the hand which tightened around her wrist.
"Let me help you, Jordan…please."
She swallowed hard, summoned all her courage, and met his smoldering gaze. "I need a profiler who can tell me exactly what I'm up against here."
"Don't tell me you've lost your touch."
She ignored his smirk. "I need a fresh pair of eyes who can look at this guy objectively."
"Who hasn't allowed themselves to get too personal?"
"I just need someone other than you," she spat.
"Too bad, you're stuck with me. Now, what do you say I release your hand and you don't take my head off? Or we can continue to provide the day's entertainment for your co-workers."
Jordan shifted her gaze to the glass separating her office from the command center. A half dozen familiar faces scattered like rats. She twisted free from his grip, grabbed her cap from her desk and shoved it down over her head. "Fine!" She was already halfway out the door before she realized he wasn't with her. She turned back and found him smiling at her. "Are you coming or not?"
* * * * *
Sam glanced over at the driver of the black SUV. Jordan hadn't said a word since leaving her office, but he could tell from her white knuckles hugging the steering wheel she could blow any minute. He debated whether to pop the cork now or wait until they were on safer ground. He'd never been in a car accident and didn't care much for the image that flashed through his mind of her deliberately ramming his side of the SUV into a tree.
He fought off a smile tethering just below the surface. In five years of living with this woman, he'd been on the receiving end of her rage more times than he cared to remember. But strangely enough, he'd loved every second of it. He'd never met a more passionate woman, nor had any woman ever sent his body into overdrive the way she could. Even though her weak moments were few and far between, he'd always sensed a deep vulnerability inside her that lay dormant. He got a brief glance of it in her office when she said she needed a fresh pair of eyes on the case. He'd gotten an earlier glimpse of it eighteen and a half months ago. The memory of that look in her eyes—a hurt so deep that it shattered every nerve—still haunted him.
"How is Sergeant?"
Jordan's inquiry of their dog shook him to his core. They had adopted the Saint Bernard soon after they were married. He'd often wondered why she hadn't taken the dog with her when she left. "He ran away soon after you did."
"What…didn't you search for him?"
"Of course I did, Jordan." He'd searched for her too. Used every data base the FBI had. She had simply disappeared without a trace. If she was so good at eluding me, a trained agent, how did the killer manage to find her?
"I can't believe he's gone," she said softly.
Sam looked over just in time to see her brushing away a tear. Typical—the missing dog she cries for—me, she left hanging out to dry without so much as a note. "I'm sure he found a good home. He always was very persuasive."
His comment earned him a brief smile.
"So where are you taking me?" They'd been driving in the country for miles it seemed.
"To where he's dumping the bodies." She picked up a file from the dash and handed it to him. "The first victim was found three weeks ago. The second, one this morning."
"You're sure they're connected to the case you were working in Virginia?"
"I'm positive."
He glanced up at her hardened tone and was startled by the intensity in her blue eyes. She was an intense person, always had been. But never like this. There used to be a gleam in her, a hint of someone who enjoyed life to the fullest. It was no longer there. He prayed to God he wasn't the cause of it.
Sam shook the notion out of his head and concentrated on the case file. The second victim, yet to be identified, was found partially clothed. The photos of the bruises circling her wrists and ankles were identical to the ones he had seen in the file Donovan had given him. So was the wide ligature mark around her neck. A belt maybe? He laid them aside and looked at the photos of the first victim. There was no question it was the same killer.
He felt the SUV stop and looked up. In front of him all he saw was trees, except for a narrow opening that looked to be some sort of trail. To his left, he saw a mountain with more woods surrounding its base. "Hope you brought bug spray."
Jordan reached over and unsnapped the glove box. It popped open and an orange can rolled out onto the lid.
Sam climbed out of the SUV and doused himself with the bug spray. He felt Jordan standing beside him and handed her the can. When she didn't take it, he looked over and found her staring at the opening in the woods. He lowered his gaze and saw the rapid rise and fall of her chest. "Are you okay?"
She turned, wetting her lips, and tossed him a blank stare. "I'm fine. Are you going to use all that spray on yourself or can I have some of it?"
"Turn around and I'll get your back," he offered.
She held out her hand. "Just give me the can."
He held it out of her reach. "No…now turn around."
She rolled her eyes and sighed, then turned her back to him.
He smothered a smile as he gave her a good dousing. When he moved to stand in front of her, he noticed her hands trembling. Was she really that mad, or was it something else that had her so shaken?
Before he could broach the subject, she grabbed the can from his hand. He started to grab it back and she aimed the can at his face. He leaped back, threw up his hands at the same time, "All right." He walked backed to the SUV and peered inside. "Did you think to bring any water?"
"We aren't going to be in there that long."
"Oookay." He turned back to her and found she was no longer standing in front of the SUV but walking toward the opening in the woods.
When Sam caught up to her he placed his hand underneath her elbow. She flinched like she'd been cut with a sharp knife. Her reaction stung him deeply.
"Sorry, I'm just a little jumpy."
"Don't worry. I've got your back."
She tossed him a look that spoke volumes. It wasn't exactly hate he saw, but a hurt much deeper than he had imagined. He watched as she turned back around then followed her down the path.
They hadn't gone far into the woods before a swarm of flies and other pesky bugs started attacking him. He swatted at them with both hands. "Are you sure that was bug repellent in that can?"
"You've been around enough dead bodies to know that bugs can't resist rotting flesh."
At first he thought her reply was a jab at him, but then he saw the yellow police tape stretched out ahead of them. He moved ahead of her and raised the tape for her to duck underneath.
"The first body was found a quarter of a mile away."
He joined her at the markings of where the body had been found and scanned the area carefully. "There aren't any signs of a struggle, and that path is too narrow for a vehicle, so he must have carried them here. Either our guy is the Incredible Hulk, or there's a nearby road."
"There are no roads besides the one we came in on." Jordan stared at an area just east of the trail, where an even narrower path descended further into the woods.
He suspected that was where the other body was found. "Just because they aren't on any map doesn't mean there aren't any roads."
"There are no more roads, Sam."
"Then how'd he get her here?" He walked around the scene, searching for any signs that the victim was dragged there. There was none.
Jordan shrugged her shoulders as she turned to him. "Beats me."
A gnawing sensation in his gut told him she wasn't being completely forthcoming with all the details. "Are you holding out on me, Jordan?"
She looked him in the eyes. "I gave you the file, Sam. In it are copies of everything we have."
Then why was his instinct telling him she was lying? He walked in the direction she had been looking earlier and ducked underneath the yellow tape.
"Where are you going?"
"I want to see the other dumpsite."
"Well, you're going the wrong way, Sherlock. It's this way." She pointed to her left, where the trail continued in the direction of the mountain.
He shook his head. She was as sharp as ever.
Sam followed her along the trail several yards before finally asking, "How far is it to the house where you used to live?"
She stopped and he almost ran into her. "What difference does that make?"
He was taken aback by the severity of her tone. "I'm just curious. I'd sort of like to see it. You lived on a farm didn't you?"
"Yes, but the house has been torn down." She started walking again.
Sam watched the honey blonde ponytail sticking out of her cap bounce from shoulder to shoulder. "Why was it torn down? Was it that old?"
"No. It caught fire several years ago and the owners chose to bulldoze it and start over."
"That makes sense." His gaze ventured to her narrow waist and shapely hips. It was obvious she had stuck to her daily regime of exercise. "So how did Seth talk you into settling down here?"
"I'm still asking myself that same question."
Sam chuckled. He'd first met her cousin at their wedding and knew then they were very close. After her mother passed away two years later, they grew even closer. Neither of them ever talked much about their childhood, though. Sam figured the deaths of their fathers in a tragic car accident when they were young had a lot to do with their reluctance to talk about the past, and had always respected their privacy. Not everyone was fortunate enough to have all fond memories of their childhood.
Jordan stopped again. "The body was found near that red maple."
Sam followed the direction of her finger, to a huge tree beside the narrow path. "Are these trails used often?"
"This one is. Hikers like to use it as a warm-up before climbing Darwood Peak."
"Why here? I mean it's obvious he wants the bodies found or he would have buried them. But why would he have chosen this particular path?"
"I don't know. Maybe he was afraid of being seen. The other trails, closer to the peak, are more populated and there are camping facilities at the base."
"You're familiar with this place."
"Most everyone around here is."
"You seem to know it better. Did you come hiking here as a kid?"
"Yes." She folded her arms in front of her.
"How would he have known that?"
"I don't know that he did. Kids like to explore, Sam, I was no different."
"I don't have to be a profiler to know he planted those bodies here for a reason, Jordan."
"Okay, so he brought them here for me, as part of his sick little game, but why he chose this particular area… I don't know."
Back at the SUV, he watched as she started to get in. "I couldn't help but notice you haven't smoked a cigarette." Eighteen months ago she had smoked like a chimney.
"That's right. Another bad habit I've given up."
Now that was a jab. "So you really meant what you said back in your office?"
She looked across the hood at him. "You mean about wanting a divorce?"
"Yeah."
She hesitated. "Let's just concentrate on getting this guy. We'll deal with the past once he's dead."
It wasn't so much the innuendo of a divorce that shook him, but the starkness of her comment. "You mean once he's behind bars?"
"No, I mean once he's dead. He's not going to give up, Sam. He's going to make us kill him. And I'm gladly going to do it."
Chapter Three
Jordan's statement continued to haunt Sam well into the trip back to town. Donovan was right. Not only had this guy rubbed off on Jordan, he'd pushed her to the edge. Now he had to find a way to bring her back.
"So what's the motel situation around here? I didn't notice any when I drove into town."
"There's a small one west of town, but I wouldn't recommend it," she said. "Westmore is a half-hour drive, or you can bunk on my couch."
Surprised, he glanced over at her offer. "You're offering me your couch? Gee, I don't know what to say." His sarcasm left a sour taste in his mouth. If either of them had reason to be bitter, she did. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."
"I'll take that as a yes?"
"I'd love to sleep on your couch." Hopefully, staying with her would give him a chance to make things right between them.
* * * * *
What in the world was I thinking? Jordan mused three hours later as she sat across from her estranged husband at her cousin's dinner table. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer was the quote she had based her ridiculous invitation on. She couldn't afford to have Sam snooping around on his own—an afternoon in the woods had proven that—but she also couldn't risk him smooth talking his way back into her life. Throughout dinner, he had been his usual charming self, which of course irritated her even more.
Her original plan for dinner had been drive-thru. She wasn't about to cook for the man. That plan fell apart when Jordan realized she didn't have any extra cash and had to stop by the apartment. Ellie saw them, of course, and had extended an invitation to join them for dinner.
"Have some more mashed potatoes, Sam," Ellie spoke from one end of the table. Their foster children, Eric and Devin, sat on either side of Jordan and Sam. A car accident early into their marriage had robbed Ellie of ever being able to bare children so they chose the next best thing. From what Jordan had seen in the last year and a half, they were very good foster parents.
"How long have you been an FBI agent, Sam?" Devin, the younger of the two boys, asked.
Sam turned to the ten-year old on his right, "Nine years."
"So a little longer than Jordan?"
"A little."
When Sam looked across the table at her, she quickly turned away. I should have my head examined.
"Why'd you quit, Jordan?" Eric turned in the chair beside her.
Jordan hesitated. She wasn't quite sure how to answer. One minute she was deliriously happy with her life, and then a monster came along and swept it all away. To top it off, the man whom she loved more than life itself betrayed her.
Seth came to her rescue. "Why don't you boys clean off the table?"
Jordan could feel Sam looking at her. She grabbed her dishes and stood. "I'll give you guys a hand."
"Let them do it, Jordan," Ellie said. "Sit back down and visit."
"Yeah, Jordan, you've been pretty scarce lately," Seth added. "We need to catch up."
"I'll drop by your office tomorrow. Right now, I really need to stay busy for the next half-hour or so." She had yet to quench the after-meal craving for nicotine and right now she wanted a cigarette in the worse way.
As soon as the boys sat their collection of dishes down on the counter, she ushered them from the kitchen.
On his way out, Devin turned and handed her a sucker.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him back for quick hug. "Thank you, Devin."
"You're welcome." He grinned.
She stared at the swinging door. How a kid who was abused and then abandoned by both his parents had such a generous heart was a mystery to her. It gave her hope that someday, by some miracle, she might be able to forget her childhood.
With a heavy sigh; she unwrapped the treat and shoved it in her mouth.
She'd just finished filling the dishwasher when she heard the door swing open. Figuring it was one of the boys with an added addition, she swung around. "Too late, I…oh it's you."
"I sure have missed that smile," Sam said.
A quick insult was on the tip of her tongue, but her vocal cords were suddenly paralyzed. How was it possible that this man could get better looking with age? At thirty-three, there still wasn't a gray hair anywhere in his black hair. And what was with the matching leather jacket and new goatee? Disturbingly enough they fit him to a tee. He could pick a lock faster than most criminals she knew and could charm his way out of just about any situation he landed himself in. It was that bad boy persona, that most girls were drawn to, which had sucked her in like a riptide almost from the get-go.
Well, not anymore. His infidelity had proven, once and for all, that he couldn't be trusted. "Did you need something?" she finally managed.
"No. I just thought I'd give you a hand."
"Thanks, but I've got it covered." She picked up a dishtowel and busied herself with wiping down the counters.
"Jordan, I—"
The door burst open and Devin came in. "Ellie wants to know if you guys wanna play a board game."
Jordan glanced over her shoulder. "Tell her I can't. I've got paper work I need to get done." She looked at Sam, "But you're welcome to stay."
He grinned, as if sensing her eagerness to get rid of him. "Thanks, but I think I'll go on up to the apartment. I still have to unpack."
Jordan bit off the last of her sucker, but continued to suck on the stick. She had to do something to clear her mind. "I'm going for a walk. You know where the key is."
"I don't like the idea of you going for a walk alone."
"I wasn't asking for your permission."
* * * * *
Sam watched Jordan until she disappeared around the corner. He considered getting into his rental car and following her. It was hard to imagine her any angrier than she already was—which made him wonder why she had extended the invitation to stay in her apartment. What is she up to?
He heard movement behind him and swung around just as Devin stepped into the light of the lamppost.
"We don't have muggers around here," the kid said, brushing a wad of sandy-blonde curls from his eyes. "And if we did they'd be committing suicide if they tried anything with her. I've seen her working out in the garage. She can take care of herself."
It wasn't a mugger he was worried about.
"Why is Jordan so mad at you?"
"I did something that I shouldn't have done," Sam said with deep regret.
"Do you think she'll forgive you?"
"I don't know. I sure hope so."
The boy shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out several suckers; similar to the one Jordan had been gnawing on in the kitchen. "These might help."
Sam chuckled as the boy dumped them into his hand. "She likes these, does she?" He imagined they were a poor substitute for her addiction.
"She especially likes the grape ones."
"Which ones do you like?"
"I don't really like any of them. I bought them for Jordan, with some of my allowance."
It was obvious the boy cared a great deal for his wife. "How long have you two been friends?"
"Since I moved in last year. I keep praying for her sadness to go away."
The boy's words came at him like a sucker punch to his stomach. "What makes you think she's sad?"
"Sometimes at night I can't sleep, and every now and then when I look out the window I see her sitting on the stairs crying."
Sam bit down hard on his lower lip. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. He looked toward the garage apartment. With the yard light, the stairs were well lit. They would have to be for Jordan to sit out here alone at night.
Ever since he could remember she'd been afraid of the dark. So much to the point she needed a nightlight just to go to sleep. Back home, he still kept it lit. Hoping someday she'd return.
"I probably shouldn't have told you that. Don't tell her I did, okay?"
"I won't, Devin. Thank you for being such a good friend to her."
"I like her. She listens to me, I mean really listens, when I tell her my stories that I make up in my head."
"Sounds like you two have a lot in common. She likes to write hers down."
"I know. She told me. She said when she leaves I can have her laptop."
Alarm rose up in him. "What do you mean when she leaves? Is she planning on moving?"
"I don't know. She just said that she might have to leave soon. But don't tell her I told you that either."
"I promise I won't say anything."
"All right. I better get back inside."
"Okay. I enjoyed our talk, Devin. I hope to do it again sometime."
"Sure." He started to walk off, then turned back. "Don't forget, she likes the grape ones best."
"I won't forget."
Sam leaned against the corner of the house and stared up at the half moon. He went over in his head what the boy had told him. Was she really planning on moving again? If so—why? And to where? He glanced at his watch, wondered how long of a walk she'd planned. If he hurried he could look through the apartment before she got back and hopefully find something that would give him a clue as to what was going through her head. He'd lost track of her once. He wasn't about to lose her again.
Ten minutes later Sam sat staring at the screen on her laptop, reading a portion of the manuscript she'd been working on long before she left Virginia.
She lay chained like an animal, the metal cutting into her tender skin. There wasn't a part of her body that didn't hurt from the abuse she'd been forced to endure at the monster's hands. She looked at the door. A stream of bright sunlight temporarily blinded her. He'd come sooner or later, she knew it. He always did.
"What are you doing?"
Sam jerked at the sound of Jordan's voice. He'd been so engrossed in the woman's fear he hadn't heard Jordan come up the stairs or open the door. "Is this from one of your case files?"
"No! It's called fiction, and it's what sells." She came forward, slammed the lid down, and then shoved the laptop underneath her arm. "You have no right to go through my things."
"I was only reading your manuscript."
"Don't lie to me, Sam. All I have to do is look around this room and I can tell you every drawer and object that was touched."
Like him, she had been trained to be observant of her surroundings. "All right. I'm sorry. It's just that I'm worried about you."
"Since when? You didn't seem too concerned about me when I saw you in that parking garage."
"You gave up a brilliant career, and are throwing away our marriage, because of a kiss that meant nothing." He stood and met her glare.
She let out a dry chuckle. "Don't flatter yourself. My leaving the bureau had nothing to do with your infatuation with Darcy Kent. I could care less that the two of you are sleeping together. As far as I'm concerned you deserve one another."
"Really?" He had a very strong hunch she was lying. "Well if that's the case, why did you leave? And why come back to Thorny Creek? You told me once you hated the place."
"I came here because I had nowhere else to go." She walked to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and picked up her purse.
His stomach knotted. "Look at me, Jordan. There is nothing going on between Darcy and me. There never has been. I kissed her, yes, but that was the first and only time."
"Am I supposed to be relieved by that?"
"No, of course not, I was just—"
"I'm going to my room. Be sure to lock up."
Sam heard the bedroom door slam and let out an exhausted sigh. He'd known when he came here it wasn't going to be easy to get her back. She was hurt. He had betrayed her trust. Only time would heal those wounds. He just prayed she wouldn't go and get herself killed between now and then.
Chapter Four
Jordan woke the following morning to the sound of the shower running. Bewildered at first, she rose to the side of her bed. An image of Sam in his black leather jacket flashed through her mind. It was no nightmare—this was her new reality. At least until she could figure out a way to get rid of him. She would have sent him packing last night if she hadn't recalled Aggie's threat. She mindlessly reached for her pack of cigarettes on the nightstand and saw they weren't there. I picked a fine time to quit smoking.
The shower was still running when she stepped barefoot out into the hall. She pounded on the door. "You better not use all the hot water."
The shower stopped and the door jerked open. "What?"
Her words were stopped short of her mouth at the site of Sam clad only in a towel. Dark curls of hair spread across his muscular chest, narrowing at his almost perfect abs. A familiar yearning began in the pit of her stomach. She ignored it, grabbed the handle, and pulled the door shut. "Hurry up. I need to take a shower."
"Be right out," he answered back.
She went into the kitchen, thankful the coffeemaker Seth and Ellie had gotten her for Christmas was programmable. She grabbed a mug from the drainer, poured a cup, and flipped on the morning news.
"Residents of Thorny Creek are in shock this morning, after the discovery of another body in the woods. This makes the second woman to be found murdered in this sleepy community in less than a month. Police are—"
Jordan reached over and turned off the portable television. "Great! I'm going to be dealing with the press all morning."
"If you want, I can deal with them," Sam offered from behind.
She turned and found he was dressed in the usual FBI attire of a suit and tie. "That was quick."
"You told me to hurry."
She noticed he'd trimmed his goatee. "Since when do you like facial hair?"
"I've been working with Homeland Security for the last six months trying to bust up a ring of suspected terrorists. It makes for better cover."
Her heart skipped a beat. She remembered reading about two of their agents being killed in a similar sting operation. The thought of anything happening to him made her sick at her stomach. Despite the heartache he'd caused her, she still cared for him.
He glanced down at the cup in her hand. "Did you save me some of that?"
"Did you save me some hot water?"
"Yes, ma'am, I did."
Jordan moved from in front of the coffeemaker. "Help yourself." She brushed past him in route to the bathroom.
"You never answered me."
"What?" She turned just as he spilled a few drops of coffee on his tie. "Still clumsy I see."
"You've always had that effect on me." He grabbed a dishtowel and brushed it against his tie. "So do you want me to handle the press?"
Jordan thought about her planned meeting with Seth. After some number crunching, and a late phone call to Rick, she had managed to revamp her budget enough to cover hiring another officer. With the murders already making the headlines, today would be a good day to plead her case. "That would be great, thanks."
"No problem. What details do you want kept out?"
"Anything that they'd be able to connect to the murders in Virginia." The last thing she needed was to have the public go into a frenzy at the news they had a serial killer in their midst.
"Done. Anything else I can do to help?"
"Go over both cases and make sure I haven't missed anything. I need to go see Seth so I won't be in the office until later."
"All right." He stepped toward her. "Jordan. About last night, I—"
She waved him off. "We have to stay focused, Sam. We need to get this guy before he has the chance to kill again. Leave the past alone."
"Okay. But once this guy is caught, you and I are going to have a long talk."
Jordan thought of the divorce papers she'd had drawn up, she wasn't looking forward to that talk at all. "I'll see you after while."
* * * * *
There was a small mob of reporters camped out in front of city hall as Jordan drove by. Smack dab in the middle of them was Sam. She smiled smugly. That oughta keep him busy for a while.
She knew she should be grateful that it wasn't her, but she doubted his kind offer had anything to do with taking the pressure off of her. He always loved the spotlight. Sam Russell was the FBI's poster boy when it came to press conferences. He had the body, the looks, and the charm that reporters loved to put in front of the camera.
Jordan spit her now flavorless gum into an empty coffee cup and replaced it with a new stick, before driving into the alley. She parked the SUV near the rear entrance of city hall, just in case there was an eager reporter lurking nearby. It made for a longer walk to her office, which was in the same building, but she suspected it'd be worth it.
"Why didn't you tell me another body had been found?" Seth asked the moment Jordan walked into his office.
"I assumed you knew, and I didn't want to say anything in front of the kids." She discarded her chewing gum in the trashcan beside his desk and stuck a fresh piece in her mouth.
"You could have dropped back by after your walk and told me. I had to hear about it on the news."
She took off her cap and flopped down in the chair facing his desk. "Yeah, about that, I'm going to need some more help."
"I thought that's why Sam was here?"
"It is, but I need more. I want to hire another officer."
"Jordan—"
"Before you say no, just hear me out."
He rose from his chair and came around to lean on the corner of his desk. "All right."
"I went over my budget last night and I think I've come up with a way to hire another officer without begging for more money."
"I like the sound of that," he said with a smile. "Tell me more."