The Heart Of A Killer Part 5

Or he had at one time.

Like Gabe had saida"everything had changed in twelve years.

aItas good to have you home again,a Gabe said.

aItas good to be home.a He was surprised to discover he actually meant it.

Anna was armpit deep in the thing she hated mosta"paperworka"when Dante strolled into the squad room and made a beeline for her desk.

She frowned. aWho let you in?a aSome guy named McClaren.a aRemind me to withhold his donuts.a aFunny.a He made himself at home by sliding into the chair next to her desk, extending his long, lean legs out in front of him. He wore a dark gray T-s.h.i.+rt that stretched tight across a very well-developed chest, his muscled biceps peeking out from the hem of the short sleeves.

And just like before, the stupid s.e.x chemicals in her body roared to life. G.o.d, now that head grown up he was devastating, which she would have already been well aware of if he hadnat left her twelve years ago.

She refused to be attracted to him. She intended to stay angry. His reappearance had brought unpleasant things, just like the last time shead seen him.

He might even be considered a suspect. She wasnat about to be attracted to a suspect.

She turned her attention on him, determined to remain cool and aloof.

aSomething you want?a He gave her a half-lidded look that made her squirm in her chair, so she chose to ignore him and concentrated on her paperwork instead.

aI take it youare busy?a aMaster of the obvious, arenat you?a she replied while not really studying the file in front of her.

aWant me to help?a She lifted her gaze to his. aYou a cop?a He smiled at her. Shead always loved his smile. Head made promises to her with that smile. Promises he hadnat kept.

aNot a cop, no.a aThen you should leave and let me be one.a aI thought Iad hang out with you awhile and we could catch up. Maybe we could go grab something to eat.a aIam on duty, Dante.a aYouare doing paperwork, Anna. Unless your captain thinks itas a bad idea for me to be here and throws me out.a She wished. As far as her captain knew she could be interviewing a witness or an informant at her desk. And he wasnat even at the precinct at the moment, so the likelihood of him throwing Dante out were as remote as James Patterson strolling into the squad room to interview her for his next book.

She should be so lucky.

aCatch any bad guys tonight?a aI think they stayed inside out of the heat.a aSmart of them.a aWhat about you?a aDid I catch any, or was I one of them?a He was a mind reader. Her lips curved while she made some notes in the file and closed it. aYou said it, I didnat.a aIam not a bad guy, Anna.a aSo you say.a aAnything on George yet?a aIam not discussing a case with you, especially one youare directly involved in.a aIndirectly.a aWhatever.a And no, she hadnat found a thing, something she noted in the file she opened next. Unfortunately, she had no suspects. There were no prints at the scene and no witnesses. The only reason George Clemons was dead was a direct link to that night twelve years ago. And because of all of them.

Because of her.

Then there was Dante conveniently showing up at the same time a murder was committed. A murder of someone he was tied to.

And she knew nothing about Dante or where head been. No record, no priors, he showed up in no criminal databases, which she supposed should have relieved her, but the odd thing was he showed up nowhere. At all. It was as if he didnat exist after he left here. Which made her more suspicious, not less.

She knew a lot of guys worked odd jobs for cash, so they never reported income, but for twelve years? Come on.

It made her wonder even more what the h.e.l.l head been doing for the past twelve years. And why he was suddenly back. He said he was back for George and Ellenas anniversary party. But then George turned up dead. She didnat like it. Not at all.

As much as she wanted to keep the past where it belonged, as much as she didnat want to encourage Dante, especially after last night, maybe it wouldnat be a bad idea to get close to him, to find out where head been and what head been doing while he was gone. Because if he was connected in any way to Georgeas murdera aAnything on the flowers and note?a She shook her head. aForensics got no prints, which doesnat surprise me. The scene around my house came up clear, too. Itas just like the alley.a aWhat about the alley?a Dammit. aNothing. Never mind.a aTalk to me, Anna.a aNo. Iam not discussing this investigation with you.a She laid her head in her hands.

aTired?a aLike you wouldnat believe.a aDid you sleep?a aI got a little.a Mainly what she got was a whole load of frustration, staring at the ceiling and fantasizing about Dante.

Hot, steamy fantasies. Naked ones.

Ugh.

As if late June wasnat already hot enougha Cool fingers swept across her neck, pressing in and ma.s.saging the tight muscles there. For a split second she forgot she was at work, that there were other cops there.

Then she jerked her head up and shrugged his hand off. aStop that.a His lips curled. aYou donat want me to stop.a aYou said that yesterday.a aYou didnat want me to stop then, either.a She looked around, expecting to find the entire squad room of cops staring at her.

No one was even in the room.

s.h.i.+t.

aYou canat do that here.a aWhere would you like to do it?a She sighed. aYouave been back in town for a little more than one day. We hardly know each other anymore. Why the hard press to get in my pants?a He took a seat in the chair. aIs that what Iam doing? I was just asking you out for a meal.a She slanted him a look. aYouare asking for a lot more than a meal.a aWhat if I want to get to know you again, figure out what youave been up to all this time.a aWe arenat going to find out any more about each other over a meal today than we did yesterday.a He laughed. aOne short conversation? You think thatas all we have left?a aI donat have time for relations.h.i.+ps in my life, Dante. Iam busy.a aI didnat ask you for a relations.h.i.+p, Anna. There are things we need to talk about, and you know it. We all need to talk, not just you and me.a He wanted more from her than talking. She knew it and he knew it. She hadnat been a cop for seven yearsa"a d.a.m.n good copa"by ignoring signals and body language. Danteas body language told her a lot about his intentions.

Intentions she had no desire to act on.

Okay, maybe she had desires, but she knew nothing about him.

aYou want to talk, how about you start by telling me the truth about you?a He leaned back, a look of wariness on his face. aWhat truth?a aAbout where youave been for the past twelve years.a And why he left in the first place.

That shut him up.

aAnd why you show up here and suddenly someone close to you is dead.a Now he looked p.i.s.sed. A sure sign of something to hide. aCirc.u.mstance. I had nothing to do with Georgeas death.a aSo you say. But it sure is a coincidence that George is murdereda"a she looked around to make sure no one had wandered into the squad room aa"in a place very familiar to you, that no one knows about, on the same night you come back after being gone for twelve years. Iad like an explanation for that one, Dante.a aSo would I. Iad also like an explanation why after the murder someone left you a love note and flowers showing off about the murder. And it couldnat have been me since I was with you on the scene.a She opened her mouth to argue the point, but instead clamped it shut.

aWe do have a lot to talk about, Anna. You, me, Gabe, Roman and Jeff. Our past has suddenly been dumped right into our laps again. And like it or not, we have to deal with it.a She didnat like it.

aIall think about it.a aYou do that.a Great. A get-together with the same people shead been with twelve years ago.

A reunion she didnat want to have.

Dante sat in his car and stared at the nondescript brick building that housed the metropolitan police station. Cops wandered in and out as he pondered what his next step would be.

Why hadnat he just told Anna where head been and what head been doing for the past twelve years?

Because his life was a big giant secret and he never knew from one minute to the next where it would take him or what his ident.i.ty would be when he got there. And he knew better than to just start spilling his guts.

He didnat exist, not officially, and the fewer people who knew that the better.

If he was lucky he could get in and out of town without anyone knowing who he was and what he did.

His superiors would like that a lot.

Head done the right thing by not saying anything, even if the end result had been the mistrustful look in Annaas eyes.

Head been the one who put that look there in the first place, so he was going to have to own it.

Which didnat mean head have to like it.

He started up the car and drove away.

Six.

Sleep had been an illusion, a fantasy. Anna had come home after getting off duty, stripped off her clothes and climbed into a hot shower to scrub the remnants of the day from her body, her mind filled with the possibilities of this case.

By the time shead crawled into bed, the thick shades pulled down to block out the morning sunlight, she was exhausted. But sleep had been in fits, and dreams had been filled of that night twelve years ago, of being pinned down and helpless, the burn and screaming pain of a sharp knife carving into her chest. And suddenly it wasnat her anymore, but George, a shadowy figure standing over him as he cried out for help, the tip of a knife glinting silver and menacing in the moonlight.

She woke with a gasp, her hand immediately going to her chest to rub the ache that never seemed to go away. Dragging her hand through her hair, she got up, dressed and made coffee.

Cup full of life-infusing brew, she stepped out onto the back patio.

It was brutally hot outside already, the humidity rising like the steam coming off her coffee. She took a seat on a cus.h.i.+oned chair, glad she had a shaded patio to cool her bare feet. If it was this hot in June, what was August going to be like?

Unbearable. And this kind of heat bred crime.

But she wasnat on duty right now and shead barely brushed the cobwebs out of her mind. It wasnat time to think of work yet.

She sipped her coffee and watched the birds peck at the feeder in the corner of the yard. Shead impulsively bought it this spring, thinking her backyard needed some life and colora"much like her lifea"but hey, she had to start somewhere, and the yard was easier. Shead added flowers and bushes, and had spent a couple weekends digging into the dirt with her shovel, sweating her a.s.s off and loving every minute of it.

She didnat need a social life if she had a backyard project, did she? Try telling that to her father.

Now she had to remember to water everything and put seeds in the bird feeder, but at least she had something out here to look at besides a couple trees and some gra.s.s.

She sipped her coffee and smiled at the birds fighting over the seeds.

The only thing missing from her life now was a rocking chair and a cat.

She laughed, thinking her dad would not be amused by that thought. He was already b.i.t.c.hing about her getting close to thirty and not giving him grandchildren.

As if that was a priority.

As if any man would want to deal with all the baggage shead bring to a relations.h.i.+p, the scars from the past, both physical and emotional. She could hardly stand getting naked in front of a man. Nudity required explanation of her scar, and since shead never told the truth about that night, she had to lie about how shead gotten it. s.e.x was much better in the dark, wearing some clothes. Not that she had a problem with s.e.x. She liked it just fine, but the whole relations.h.i.+p and marriage thing? No thanks.

As if she was even interested in getting married and having children, anyway.

Her work hours were s.h.i.+t, she had frequent nightmares, the past still had a stranglehold on her and she liked her independence. She dated rarely, slept with men even more infrequently and took her s.e.xual frustration out on her job.

Yeah, she was one h.e.l.l of a catch.

Her cup empty, she went inside to refill and saw her phone vibrating across the kitchen counter.

It was a text message from Dante asking her to call him when she woke up.

She pressed the call b.u.t.ton and he answered on the first ring.

aI didnat expect you to answer me right away,a he said. aFigured youad still be asleep.a aI donat need a lot of sleep.a aSo youave said. You ready to meet with all of us tonight?a No. She didnat want to meet with any of the guys, but figured Dante would keep insisting. And if he didnat, Roman would. Roman worried like an old woman. aI guess so. How about pizza at my place at six?a aOkay. Iall round everyone up. Iall bring the beer.a aWonat this be fun.a The best kind, tooa"theyad be talking about a murder, and shead have to once again relive that night.

She clicked the phone off and leaned against the counter, ignoring the throb of the scar on her chest.

There had to be an explanation for George being killed in the alley, for the uncanny resemblance of his murder to the death of Tony Maclin. And for the carving of the heart on the victimas chest.

But there was also the matter of the flowers and the card. No explaining that away as coincidence. Someone had wanted her to know about the murder. The flowers had been a gift. A sick gift, and there was no way to neatly tie this up as a coincidence, no matter how much she wanted to.

She had time, so she headed to the medical examineras office. Richard Norton hadnat autopsied the body yet and she wanted to take another look.

She walked into the nondescript one-story brick building, which was always cold as a tomb even outside the examination rooms. She figured they deliberately kept it that way to discourage visitors, but on a day as hot as this she welcomed the arctic temperature indoors, pa.s.sed her way through security and signed in to view the body being held in storage downstairs. The attendant outside the room went in with her.

She pulled the sheet back. George hadnat been cleaned up yeta"theyad do that when they autopsied him, but the carving on his chest resembled hers. Same location, left side of the chest, crude, as if it had been done in a hurry just to make a point. His wound looked deeper than hers, though, as if someone had dug down hard with the knifepoint. She wondered if George had still been alive when the killer had taken the knife to his chest.

Tony Maclin had been toying with her when head carved the heart into her skin. She still remembered the burning pain, how much it had hurt.

Had George felt the pain? Or had he already been beaten so badly he couldnat feel anything at all by that point, not even the knife cutting into his skin?

Her scar tingled. She wanted to rub it, to remember, but the techas presence prevented her from doing so.

Weare connected now, George. Youare not alone.

aSee something on him?a the tech asked.

aNo. Just wanted to take another look, see if there was something I missed.a She covered him with the sheet and the tech closed the drawer.

It had been a waste of time to come here. She didnat know what had drawn her.

She stared at the silver drawer where George Clemons lay and thought how easily that could have been her twelve years ago. If the guys hadnat been there, if they hadnat rushed to her rescue, she could have ended up on a slab in this ice-cold room, dead at sixteen.

Everything she was now, everything shead worked so hard to become, would have been obliterated that night in the alley. Shead have been buried underground, locked in a box, surrounded by dirt.

The room got hot. Her vision began to swim and her throat tightened, cutting off her breath.

No. Not now. This couldnat be happening.

She had to get out of here.

aIam done,a she said, forcing her breaths to slow down even as dizziness took over.

This was such a s.h.i.+tty time for a panic attack.

She pivoted and pushed through the double doors, already feeling the cold clamminess, the numbness in her fingers and face.

Get out. Get out now.

aM.E.as behind schedule but has him on tap for tomorrow,a the tech remarked casually as they walked into the elevator. aYou coming back to watch?a Anna nodded, barely focusing on his words as he pushed the b.u.t.ton and the elevator pitched and rolled. Nausea rose in her stomach and she leaned back against the wall for support. She needed to lie down, to feel something cool against her face.

Shead never fallen apart in front of anyone. If someone found out, they might tell her she couldnat do her job.

Could the tech see her sweat? Did he notice how pale she was? She tried to stay calm, to keep from breathing too fast.

When the doors opened, she walked slow and easy past the desk, but as it was, she could barely walk at all. She could no longer feel her legs past the pins and needles stabbing them.