Beg for Mercy (7 page)

M
egan rubbed Dev’s back as she gagged over the sink, wondering when this would all be over.

Cole started to introduce himself as she turned to face him. “I’m—” He stopped short, his dark eyes widening, his body visibly jolting with shock. “Megan?” His hand twitched as though about to reach for her, but he regained his composure almost immediately. All emotion fled and his eyes got that flat, dead, cop look that never failed to unnerve her.

Waves of hot and cold shuddered through Megan as she attempted to follow Cole’s lead. “Hello, Detective Williams.” Her voice trembled a little at the end, and even as she mentally kicked herself, she reminded herself she could hardly be expected to be calm in a situation like this. It wasn’t every night she was called to the scene of a gruesome murder.

Confronted with the man who, after all this time, after everything he’d put her through, still had the power to make her knees shake when she looked at him. It seemed impossible that he should still have this effect on her. He’d put her brother in jail for Christ’s sake, hadn’t lifted a finger when she’d asked—no, begged—for his help. Then
when their relationship had been exposed in the press, Cole had told reporters his feelings for Megan weren’t serious, certainly not serious enough to interfere with his job. Which took priority over everything.

Yet she took one look at that hard, chiseed face; that rangy, broad-shouldered body; those big, long-fingered hands, and her stomach did a completely irrational, adolescent flip-flop.

“You know him?” Dev whispered.

“Yeah, we go way back,” Megan replied, proud of the way her tone sharpened, happy to feel the fresh burst of anger in her chest chase away the rest.

Something flashed on his face—regret? Then it was gone as his gaze shifted from her to Dev. “I understand you called Miss Flynn after you found the victim?”

Dev’s gaze flicked anxiously to Megan, who gave her an encouraging nod. “Yeah,” Dev said softly. “She told me to call the police.”

Cole’s full mouth pulled into a half smile. “Smart woman.” He started to say something, then paused as the trailer door opened behind him.

“This is my partner, Detective Olivia Petersen,” Cole said. “Petersen, this is Megan Flynn and Devany Sinclair.”

With her tall, athletic body, short blond hair, and cleanly sculpted features, Detective Petersen looked like some kind of Nordic goddess of war. Her eyes did the cop sweep around the room, taking in every detail.

“You found the victim, correct?” she asked Dev.

Dev nodded.

“And who are you again?” she asked Megan, who tried not to bristle at the woman’s sharp, businesslike tone.

“I’m Dev’s court-appointed advocate.”

Detective Petersen’s perfectly arched brows knitted into a frown. “Why is your name so familiar?”

Megan fought not to squirm as the woman’s blue stare pierced her. “Most likely because my brother Sean is on death row and recently waived his right to appeal,” she said, her voice flat and emotionless. “His name is in the press lately because in less than two weeks he’ll be the first person executed by Washington State in over a decade.” She felt her mouth stretch into a sneer. “And whenever they talk about Sean, my name comes up. The crazy, delusional sister who won’t believe her brother is guilty.” Her eyes narrowed and she couldn’t resist a look at Cole.

He watched her silently, his eyes dark and full of sympathy that bordered on pity. Goddamn him. She didn’t need his pity. “Stop looking at me like you feel sorry for me, Cole. We both know how you feel about Sean.”

Cole opened his mouth to protest, but Megan cut him off as she turned back to Detective Petersen. “None of that matters tonight. Dev has already been through a lot. Maybe we should pick this back up in the morning—”

“We’ll try to get through this as quickly as possible,” Cole said, his low voice somehow soothing, now that he was once again all business.

“It’s okay,” Dev said. “We can talk now.”

He motioned for m" w sit on the couch and took a seat on the edge of the coffee table while Petersen remained standing, arms across her chest. Megan sat on the couch next to Dev, pressing herself as far back into the cushions as she could. Still she couldn’t escape the claustrophobic sensation, like Cole had sucked up all the space and air in the room.

Dev wasn’t having nearly the same reaction, and
Megan couldn’t blame her. Had she not known better, Megan would have fallen under Cole’s spell too. There was something about the way he leaned in to listen, watched with those dark eyes, asked pointed, probing questions in that deep voice that made you want to give up all your secrets.

She’d been such a sucker for it, believing he cared, believing the intense focus, the way he hung on every word, meant he was falling as hard for her as she had for him.

Now, wiser, she realized it was just another layer to his cop facade, one he used with great success on civilians and suspects alike. As she listened to Cole question Dev, she understood how Sean, fighting off the effects of drugs after his arrest, had given up way too much incriminating information before Megan had been able to get a lawyer in there.

She shook off the memories of that night and forced herself to listen as Dev described what she’d seen. “Like I told the other cop—uh, police officer—at first all I saw was the TV showing a close-up of a dead girl. I thought it was like, a horror movie. It was only when I looked over where Skeeter was that I saw blood all over the floor.” Dev swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to vomit the little bit of water she’d just swallowed. “That was when I realized it wasn’t a movie.”

Megan didn’t miss the way Olivia’s head cocked to the side, nor the seconds-long look she and Cole exchanged. “What is it?” she asked.

Another look. Jealousy twisted in Megan’s gut at the fluent, silent communication and intimacy that flowed between the partners. Megan tried to shove the emotion
aside. She had no business wondering or caring about how intimate Detectives Williams and Petersen were.

Nevertheless, there was a bitter ache in Megan’s throat as she asked, “Why are you looking at each other like that? What aren’t you telling us?”

Cole countered with another question. “Devany, when you were chasing Skeeter, you didn’t see anyone else, inside or outside the vacant trailer?”

Devany shook her head. “No one. There was no one else there.”

“You’re sure?” Detective Petersen said. “Think really hard, Devany. Maybe you saw something, heard something?”

“I didn’t see or hear anything,” Devany said.

“You think the killer was still there when Dev found the body?” The thought sent ice crystals through Megan’s veins.

Petersen shared another look with Cole before she responded. “When Devany found the body, the TV was on. Based on what Devany told us, the killer had a camera hooked up to capture what has happening on the bed,” Detective Petersen said. “Our first responders reported that when they arrived on the scene, the television was on but it was just showing a blue screen. No camera was found.”

Dev turned impossibly paler. “Oh my God. What if he thinks I saw him? What if he comes after me?” She turned to Megan, her eyes wide with panic. “You can’t believe what he did to her, Megan. I mean, her back, everything, it was awful.”

“It’s okay,” Megan reassured her. “Everything is going to be okay. You’re going to be protected no matter what.”
She shot Cole a meaningful look over Dev’s head. He nodded.

What Devany described sounded eerily similar to what had happened to four other victims in the past year.

About nine months ago, a woman had been found murdered in an apartment in downtown Seattle. Since then, three more had been found in different locations in the Seattle area.

Though many details about the murders had been closely guarded, enough information had been released to the press that Megan couldn’t shake the suspicion that the girl Devany had discovered was the killer’s latest victim. But she held off on voicing her suspicions to Cole. Megan didn’t want to bring up her concerns in front of Dev. The poor kid was terrified enough.

Not to mention, Cole was so careful about doing everything by the book, he’d never confirm her suspicions before he’d done a thorough investigation himself. And maybe not even then, depending on what the police department wanted the public to know.

A feeling of uneasy anticipation prickled down her spine, but she shoved it away.
Maybe this time I’ll find a link.
She smacked the thought down before it could even fully form. She’d looked as deeply as she could into the previous four victims’ cases in an effort to find similarities to Evangeline Gordon’s murder.

Every time she’d hit a brick wall. Even Megan was aware she was something of a joke—considered the crazy chick who had chased down every scrap of information about every woman who’d been killed by a knife in the past two and a half years in a desperate attempt to get her brother off death row.

Nothing had ever come of it. No reason to think this time would be any different.

And yet… she couldn’t shake that weird electric buzz, like something was about to happen; she just didn’t know what.

Cole flipped his notepad closed and rose from the coffee table. “I think you’ve answered everything for tonight, but—”

He was cut off by a commotion outside. Screeching tires, followed by a car door slamming, a woman’s high, shrill voice yelling at the patrolmen outside. Skeeter raced to the door, dancing in circles, his sharp yaps threatening to pierce Megan’s eardrums.

Dev’s frown deepened. “Aunt Kathy,” she said over the din.

Megan stepped forward to intercept Kathy as she slammed into the trailer. Megan knew firsthand how volatile and unreasonable the woman could be, and she hoped to spare Dev any more trauma tonight.

Kathy was a wiry woman of fifty. She’d changed from her waitressing uniform into worn jeans that hung off her hip bones and a thick sweater that practically swallowed up her thin form. Her hair was a uniform shade of dark red that didn’t occur in nature and was twisted in a knot at her nape.

She dumped her purse on the counter with a thud, her gaze bouncing from Megan to Cole to Olivia, finally narrowing on Devany. Wisps of smoke swirled around her head as she lifted a lit cigarette to her mouth and took a deep drag.

“Devany? What the hell didja do now?”

“I didn’t—” Dev began.

“Dev didn’t do anything, Kathy,” Megan said at the same time.

Cole held up his hand, palm out, silencing them both. In the other hand he flashed Kathy his badge. Detective Petersen did the same. They quickly introduced themselves and explained the reason for their presence.

Kathy’s ruddy complexion went pale. “Jesus, when Carol from three trailers down said there were cops at my house… I had no idea.” She looked at Dev, and Megan was relieved to see genuine concern on the woman’s face. “Devany, honey, are you all right?”

Kathy crossed to Devany and gave her a comforting, if slightly awkward, hug. Dev threw her arms around Kathy’s waist and buried her head in her thin shoulder. Kathy tightened her hold and rocked Dev back and forth half a dozen times before releasing her.

“It was so scary,” Dev said, and the tears that had been going on and off since Megan got there started up again. Not that Megan blamed her. “And they even think he was still there—the killer, I mean—when Skeeter and me were in the trailer. He could come after me.”

Kathy’s eyes widened with alarm. “Is that true? You think he’s gonna come after her?”

Detective Petersen shook her head. “We have no reason to believe that.”

Megan was glad—a little shocked but glad—that Kathy seemed to have dropped her usual gruff attitude for a more maternal one toward Devany. At the same time, she suddenly felt a little lost. She wasn’t needed here anymore.

She looked up, blinking, and found Cole staring at her. She hardened her expression, not wanting to give him any more reason to feel sorry for her. “I should go,” she said,
telling herself she was happy to get as far away from Cole as possible. The man was a master at messing with her already-fragile equilibrium.

She reached for her coat, then froze as long fingers closed around her upper arm. Even through the thick cotton of her sleeve, she could feel the heat of that touch. Racing through her veins, sparking reactions in every nerve cell, generating sensations she had no business feeling on a night like this.

With a man like him.

“Unless there’s something else you need from me, Detective,” she said, tilting her chin up to glare at him.

Big mistake. Because the frown tightening his mouth and the sincere concern in his dark, heavy-lidded eyes nearly sent her to her knees. The way he said, “I’m sorry to hear about your brother, Megan,” in that low, raspy voice that made her want to fling herself into his arms and cry on his big, brawny shoulder. Then drag him back to her apartment, beg him to strip her naked, pin her to the bed, and make her forget for a week, a month, a year, the black hole of despair her life had become.

Instead she seized on that despair, used it to fuel her anger at Cole. That he had the balls to apologize, to actually try to comfort her in all of this, was unbelievable. “Yeah, I’ll just bet you are.” She jerked her arm from his hold, then grabbed her shell and shrugged it on.