A Deadly Love (26 page)

The sheriff gave him a sharp look. “So, what stopped the killer from taking another victim?”

Across the room, Brooke pushed back her chair and stood. She cast a glance his way before walking over to her grandmother and wrapping her arms around her. The two women huddled next to the stove. Dillon wanted to go to her but didn’t. Emotions as heavy as a lead weight held him in place.

“Maybe he’s finished. Maybe Steph was the last one.”

Harley shook his head before the last words left Dillon’s mouth. “Serial killers don’t quit until someone stops them. If anything, they escalate.”

“Then what went wrong?”

“Either he took someone from out of town, and we haven’t heard about it yet, or he couldn’t get the woman he wanted.” The sheriff let out a long breath. “Detective Watkins is working with a police psychologist. They’re certain any break in this guy’s routine will make him extremely unstable.”

Dillon’s stomach knotted. “It’s not like the man is playing with a full stack of chips as it is. I don’t see how in the hell it could get any worse.”

“Maybe shaking him up will help. Maybe he’ll make a mistake.” Harley’s gaze was bleak as he stared into space. “Stephanie’s life depends on it.”

****

Talking to Dillon was like throwing rocks against a stone wall. Brooke’s overtures bounced off without denting the barrier he’d erected. Her eyes narrowed as he escorted the last FBI agent out of the house. June had gone up to bed an hour before, and Zack was asleep on the couch. Though she could barely keep her eyes open, she was determined to force the issue. When Dillon turned toward the front parlor, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to the kitchen.

He stared down at the linoleum tiles. “It’s late. I should get Zack home to bed.”

“He’s sleeping just fine where he is.” She crossed her arms over her chest and chewed her bottom lip. “Is this the way it’s going to be?”

He glanced up, his gaze shuttered. “What are you talking about?”

“Are you always going to shut me out when you’re hurting? Don’t you think I want to help?”

His shoulders slumped. “Women are dead. I don’t deserve to feel better.”

“So you intend to punish yourself by holding the pain inside.” Her voice rose. “Where’s the logic in that?”

He ran a hand through his hair and stared at her. “Where’s the logic in any of this? I didn’t love Marnie, but I liked her. We had some terrific times together. And Cybil, I was crazy about her all those years ago.” Pressing his fingers to his temples, he closed his eyes. “Maybe you were right.”

“About what?” Her heart beat painfully in her chest as she waited.

“Once you said this lunatic hurts women I care about. If I get too close to you, something might—happen.” His mouth tightened. “If I hadn’t taken you out of town on Saturday, you could have been his next victim.”

“What?” The word was a whisper of sound.

“I had to make sure you were beyond his reach. Safe.”

She dropped onto a chair. Pulling the oversized wool sweater tight around her, she couldn’t ward off the aching cold. “You took me to Eureka to protect me?”

“Saturday was a full moon. I didn’t want you anywhere near here.”

She wasn’t sure what hurt worse, knowing she might be the next target of a serial killer or that the weekend she’d spent with Dillon was motivated by fear rather than caring. Tears burned behind her eyes, and she blinked furiously.

He knelt beside her chair and held her clenched fists in his hands. “Hey, I don’t want to scare you. Maybe my logic is faulty, but I couldn’t risk it.”

Taking deep breaths, she forced back tears. “You could have explained. Instead, you made me think you—”

His eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “I do care, Brooke. Of course I care.”

“Always the protector. Zack, Jesse, and now me. One more person to worry about. I don’t want to be a burden.”

He tugged her out of the chair and into his arms. “You aren’t.”

Resting her cheek against his chest, she felt the rumbling vibration of his voice against her ear and pressed closer.

“Don’t you think I want to get wrapped up in you and forget everything else? But I’m afraid—”

“That doesn’t make sense!” She pulled away and took his face between her hands. “This isn’t about you. You aren’t the only man who had relationships with these women. Harley, Rod, Carter, they all dated one or more of them. There’re probably others I don’t even know about. You said it yourself; this is a small town. And maybe the victims are purely random.”

His arms squeezed tighter around her waist. “I pray to God you aren’t any part of this nightmare.”

“What did you mean about a full moon?”

Taking her hand, he sat down and tugged her onto his lap. “That’s when he takes his victims, on the night of a full or new moon.”

“So, nothing should happen again for a couple of weeks.”

“Probably not, but who the hell knows. By then, maybe the police will have found Steph.”

She didn’t answer, couldn’t think about Stephanie somewhere scared and alone or she’d fall apart. Exhaustion weighted her eyelids, and she drifted in a semiconscious state in the warmth of his arms. He stood and carried her across the room. Stirring, she mumbled a protest.

“Shhh.” His lips touched her hair. Walking with her up the stairs, he lowered her onto the bed and covered her with something soft. “Go to sleep. I’ll be downstairs with Zack.”

Smiling, she slipped away.

And woke stiff and cold. The comforter had slid to the floor. Her jeans were clammy and damp, and her teeth felt like they’d grown skin. Shuddering, she crawled off the bed and headed to the bathroom. Early morning light slanted across the hallway, but the house was silent.

After showering and brushing her teeth, she dressed in a pair of fleece pants and a sweatshirt and headed downstairs.

Still in her robe, her grandmother stood in front of the coffee maker, a mug clutched in her hands.

“Watching it won’t make it perk faster.”

June swung around, her hand pressed to her chest. “My goodness, you startled me.”

“Sorry, Grandma.” Brooke hesitated. “Is Dillon around?”

“He and Zack were leaving when I came downstairs. He was worried about us, so he slept on the couch.” She reached for the pot as the coffee maker sputtered and gurgled. “At least I assume he slept on the couch.”

“He did.” A drop of coffee splashed onto the hotplate, leaving a burnt aroma in the air. “He has some absurd notion I might be in danger.”

June’s hand shook as she added cream to her cup. “Maybe we’d better set him and Zack up in the guest room. Or Dillon could sleep in yours. I wouldn’t say a word.”

Brooke’s face heated. “I don’t need a midnight protector—or for you to play matchmaker.” She let out a breath. “Anyway, the spare room is still half painted. I’ll finish it this morning.”

“Those FBI agents said they might be back.”

She poured a cup of coffee and shrugged. “I can’t tell them anything I didn’t last night, and I’m not going to think about it right now. Did you feed Otis?”

June nodded. “I let him out. He took off after a squirrel.”

“That dog never quits.”

Her grandmother laid a hand on her arm. “We won’t, either. We’ll keep praying, and the police will keep looking. No one is going to give up until Stephanie is home safe.”

****

Standing at the kitchen sink, scrubbing futilely at cheese baked onto a serving dish, Dillon noticed the darting flashlight beam through the window and frowned. When the light bobbed closer to the woods, he dropped the dishrag and headed for the door.

Grabbing a jacket from the hook, he called over his shoulder, “Zack, I’m going outside for a few minutes.”

The sound of cartoon voices carried from the living room, nearly obscuring his son’s response. “Okay.”

He shut the door and hustled across the yard. “Brooke?”

The beam swung in his direction. “I can’t find Otis. He didn’t come in for dinner.” Her voice shook. “He
never
misses a meal. What if he hurt himself?”

“I’m sure he just got distracted by something. Probably a rodent.”

“I’ve been calling and calling. I thought I heard a whine from this direction.” With the flashlight, she pointed toward the woods behind the garden.

Her hand trembled. The simple sign of distress tugged at his heart. She’d been through enough without the damn dog adding to her worries. Giving her shoulders a squeeze, he tugged her close in a brief hug. “We’ll find him.”

Dillon nearly fell over Otis. Stretched out on the ground beneath a fir tree, the dog’s chest rose and fell in shallow pants. The whites of his eyes showed in the beam of light, saliva dripped from his partially opened mouth, and a pool of vomit adhered to a dead branch a foot away. His body twitched and jerked.

“Oh no.” Brooke dropped onto her knees and stroked his fur. Her voice rose. “Help me, Dillon. We have to get him to a vet.”

The dog didn’t look like he’d make it. “The nearest one is in Crescent City.”

“Then we can take him to Carter.” Tears ran down her face, and she swiped at them with her hand. “Can you carry him? Please.”

The animal weighed well over a hundred pounds. Brooke’s terrified eyes convinced him to try. Grunting, he lifted the dog and staggered back. Otis hung limp in his arms, but at least he didn’t try to bite him. “Jesus.”

“I know he’s heavy.” She ran ahead, shining the light on the ground in front of him. When they reached the driveway, she glanced toward his house. “Maybe your truck...”

“Sure. My keys are on the kitchen counter.” Taking a breath, he lifted the dog onto the backseat. “June can watch Zack.”

She raced across the yard and disappeared into the house. Laying a hand on the dog’s chest, he felt a barely discernable movement. “Hold on, boy,” he mumbled.

“Dad,” Zack called in a frightened voice, running to keep pace with Brooke.

Reaching up, he caught the keys she tossed him. “Otis is sick. You stay with Grandma June.”

Zack didn’t argue, and Brooke emerged from the house a moment later. She was silent as they drove, crouching backward on the seat, stroking her dog.

“He must have eaten something bad. I’m sure Carter can help him.” He wasn’t anywhere near as confident as he sounded, but some of the tension in her shoulders eased.

He parked in the driveway in front of the doctor’s home and turned off the engine. The outdoor lights were on. Brooke ran up to the house and pounded on the door. Standing next to the truck, he waited. After a moment she pounded again. “God, Dillon, what if he isn’t here.”

“I’ll call his cell.” He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. Before he could punch in the number, Carter rounded the side of the house.

One brow rose. “This is getting to be a habit, you two showing up on my doorstep at odd hours.”

“Thank God,” Brooke cried. “Otis is sick. You have to help him.”

“Otis?”

“The dog.” With a grunt, Dillon lifted him from the seat. “Can you get the door?”

“Hey, I’m not a vet.”

“We don’t have time to take him to one. It looks like he had some kind of seizure.”

Carter glanced from the limp dog to Brooke’s tear stained face and sighed. “Bring him in.”

Walking through the waiting room to the exam room, Dillon lowered him onto the table. “He barfed up something, but it wasn’t much.”

“Whatever he ate is in his system now. Do you know what he got into?”

“Don’t have a clue.”

The doctor’s tone lost its sharp edge. “Brooke?”

She shook her head and continued to stroke the dog. “He was outside most of the day. It was so nice—” Her voice broke.

“His symptoms present like a strong dose of rat poison. Have you put any out where he could have found it?”

“No, of course not. Oh, God, will it kill him?”

“Enough of it would, but he’s pretty big. That’s in his favor.”

Dillon stared at Carter. “Do you think someone could have poisoned him intentionally?”

“I suppose it’s possible. Some fungi will produce tremors and vomiting, but dogs tend to avoid them. More likely it’s a chemical toxin. I can induce vomiting, but without knowing exactly what he ate...”

“I’ll go see if there’s anything left.” He hesitated, not wanting to leave her. “Brooke?”

She spared him a glance before returning her attention to the dog. “I’ll stay with Otis. Why do you think someone would hurt him deliberately?” Her voice shook. “He’s never bothered anyone.”

“Maybe I’m wrong.” He touched her arm. “Stay here until I come back. I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”

She bit her lip and nodded. Ignoring Carter, he dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I won’t be long.”

In the truck, he pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in Harley’s number. The sheriff answered on the second ring.

“What’s up?”

He turned the corner and accelerated, ignoring both speed limit and cell phone laws. “I think Brooke’s dog was poisoned. We took him to Carter, and I’m headed back to see if I can find any evidence.”

“Why would someone—”

“Maybe to lure Brooke away from the house.” His gut clenched. Knowing she could have been grabbed if he hadn’t gone outside made his stomach turn.

“I’ll meet you there.”

He parked in the driveway and took Brooke’s flashlight with him. Shining it along the perimeter of the yard, he searched methodically, backing toward the woods. Harley joined him minutes later.

June stepped outside into the glare of the porch light. “Brooke,” she called.

“It’s me.” Dillon answered. “She stayed with Carter and the dog.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. We’re trying to find whatever it was that made him sick. Go back inside, June, and keep the doors locked.”

“You don’t think—”

“We don’t know anything yet, Mrs. Ransome,” Harley interrupted. “Better to be safe.”

“I’ll double check the doors and windows.” She went inside, and they continued searching.

“If that freak threw the dog a contaminated steak, there won’t be anything left to find.” Harley swore as he tripped on an exposed tree root and went down on one knee. “Wait, what do we have here?”