Breath of Malice (2 page)

CHAPTER THREE

Paige locked the door to her apartment in Denver for the last time, then left the keys with the building manager before going out to the parking lot where she’d left her van. Packing hadn’t taken long. She didn’t have much to take with her. She hadn’t had much in the way of furniture, and she’d sold or donated what she did have. She’d buy what she needed when she reached her destination. The most important thing was that she was leaving.

The April day was bright and cool. Paige huddled into her thick sweater. A couple of teenaged boys sped down the road in an old sports car. Despite the windows being closed, the music blaring from the car’s speakers had a pounding backbeat that obliterated all other sound until they passed.

Two weeks had passed since her court appearance in New York. Even though she knew Thames was still in prison, pending the ruling in his case, Paige kept her eyes trained on her surroundings as she crossed the parking lot and made her way toward her vehicle. In the oversize purse she’d slung over her shoulder was the reason for her hasty departure from Denver. A blank postcard of the Adirondack Mountains, where Paige had encountered Thames, had been sent to her home here in Denver. The postcard had arrived the previous week, on the first anniversary of that day.

This was the second such postcard she’d received. The first card had arrived at her house in New York City one year ago. At that time, she’d considered that the sender might have been someone she worked with in the Bureau office. Her actions in the Adirondack Mountains had alerted Thames to the FBI’s presence. If her squad members hadn’t arrived when they did, Thames would have escaped. She had jeopardized the investigation, provided Thames with an opportunity to flee, and put her entire squad at risk. Many had shown her their anger in subtle and not so subtle ways.

But at Thames’s murder trial, as she’d walked by him on her way to the witness stand, he’d started singing under his breath. The words he sang so softly that no one else appeared to hear were the numbers and street name of her New York home address.

And Paige knew. No one from the Bureau had sent that postcard. It had come from Thames.

Why her? They had a profile of Thames’s victims. Like Paige, they were twentysomething, slender brunettes. Other than physical appearance, the Bureau had not been able to find anything in common in the victimology of the three murdered women. There was nothing that tied the women together.

Paige’s throat tightened. Again, she wondered, why was he targeting her? How many of the women who had found themselves caught by Thames had asked themselves the same question? Was it because their paths had crossed that day on the mountain?

In New York, Paige had added the first postcard to other items being sent out for forensic testing, hoping for something that would link the card to Thames. It had come back clean. Again, as with the bodies of his victims, Paige believed that Thames was allowing only what he wanted to be discovered to be found.

Paige had gone to her superior at the New York office, Special Agent in Charge Lewis, with the postcard. He’d asked if she’d sent the card to herself in another bid to gain attention. With nothing to prove that Thames was contacting her—and doing so from death row—she was on her own.

Now, Paige had received a second postcard.

Thames knew she was no longer in New York, knew exactly where she was in Denver, and soon, she believed, he would be released. Paige didn’t think his conviction would stand. Despite all he’d done, the law would set him free.

He hadn’t forgotten about Paige over the last year. Instead, he’d tracked her. How Thames had found her in Denver was a mystery and one that was keeping her awake at night. A drop of perspiration trickled down her neck. She increased her pace.

Paige’s van was parked in a handicap spot. Her fifteen-year-old sister, Ivy, sat in the back in her wheelchair and turned to face her as Paige got behind the steering wheel. Ivy’s blond hair fell to her shoulders, straight and glossy. Behind her glasses, Ivy narrowed her almond-shaped eyes, and her delicate features tightened into an expression sour enough to curdle milk.

“This is unfair,” Ivy said.

Paige had been hearing the same refrain ever since she’d told Ivy they would be moving. After Paige received the postcard in New York City, she uprooted Ivy from the house they’d grown up in and brought her to Denver, forcing Ivy to leave behind her friends and all that was familiar. And now, just one year later, they were moving again.

Guilt weighed on Paige’s chest. “I’m sorry Denver didn’t work out for us.”

“Why didn’t it work out? Where are we going? You still haven’t told me.”

To ensure that Ivy didn’t reveal their destination, Paige had kept that to herself. Ivy had protested the secrecy, but Paige had been adamant. She didn’t think Thames had an in with the one bookish girl Ivy had eventually befriended in Denver and could track her through that girl, but what wasn’t known couldn’t be told.

Paige hadn’t told anyone where they were moving. Not that many had asked. She was distant with her colleagues at work and with her neighbors at the apartment that had been their temporary home. The big city and the busy Bureau office had been the perfect place to become lost. Or so she’d thought. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. But Thames did not know she was leaving Denver. She thought about their new home, the safety of a fresh start, and slowly, deliberately, Paige eased her grip.

She pulled out of the parking lot and glanced at Ivy before returning her gaze to the road. “We’re going to Kirk County to the town of Caledon. There are two other towns in Kirk County, Haldonville and Linkdale. Kirk County is in South Carolina. I hear that South Carolina is really nice.”

“New York was really nice. Why can’t we go back there? Why can’t we go home? I want to go back home.”

Paige’s throat closed at the loss and grief she heard in Ivy’s voice, knowing she was the cause. Ivy deserved to live like a normal teenager, so Paige hadn’t told her the reason for the move from New York or why they were moving again. She hadn’t told Ivy about Thames.

Maybe if Paige had only had herself to think about, she wouldn’t have run; she would have stayed in New York, baited Thames, taken him down. Or maybe she was fooling herself, and she would have done exactly as she had.

Paige rubbed her arms against a sudden chill. She would do anything and everything to keep Ivy safe from Thames, but Paige’s one consolation was that Paige herself was Thames’s target. Ivy wasn’t Thames’s type. She was too young and she was blond.

Ivy was still looking at Paige, waiting for a response. Paige was fresh out of reasons—excuses—for leaving Denver. Feeling drained, she couldn’t come up with one more lie. Ivy turned away to gaze out the window, and there was no further conversation after that. With only brief stops to eat and sleep in motels that didn’t take them off their path, Paige drove largely straight through. Thames was still behind bars, but he had a reach Paige had never expected, and she found herself continuously checking her rearview mirror, looking for someone who might be following them. She pushed herself hard, wanting to get as far from Denver as she could, as quickly as she could. As long as she and Ivy were out in the open, Paige felt vulnerable.

They arrived in South Carolina ahead of schedule. Paige consulted the vehicle’s GPS and her own notes to find Kirk County. She drove by gas stations, miles of open land, and not much else before reaching what would be their new home. Kirk County was a distance from major highways and cities. Remote as the county was, it was not easy to find, and Paige released what felt like the first deep breath she’d taken since she’d received Thames’s latest postcard.

The sun was coming up, the light a pink blush on the horizon. Ivy was dozing in the back, stretched out on the bench seat. Paige pulled into the motel parking lot and scanned the area. Hers was the only vehicle.

She turned in the seat. Her neck and back ached. She winced, then reached out and gently shook Ivy awake. “We’re here,” she said softly.

Ivy blinked, then opened her eyes fully and turned her dull focus on Paige. In that instant, Paige glimpsed Ivy the way she had been in New York, before Paige had brought Thames into their lives. Gone was the anger and sadness that had surrounded Ivy since they moved to Denver, giving Paige’s heart a hard tug.

She swallowed back emotion, then said, “Wake up, sleepyhead. I need to register us at this motel, and then I’ll be back to get you. In a few minutes, you’ll be sleeping in a comfortable bed.”

Paige was so tired, and not just from the drive. Since Thames’s postcard had arrived in Denver, she hadn’t been able to turn off for more than three hours at a stretch without being jerked awake by a nightmare.

She tucked her purse under her arm, then opened the door. After the air-conditioning of the van, the heat struck her. Spring in the South. Already, the day was promising to be a warm one.

A bell jingled over the door to the motel. When no one came out from the room behind the counter, Paige tapped another bell that sat beside a guest register. It took a few rings, but finally a desk clerk shuffled out, squinting and blinking. The man with bedhead, scratching at an overnight growth of beard, wasn’t one for conversation. He accepted Paige’s payment, pushed the register book at her, and then it was done. By the time Paige finished adding her name, he’d gone back to his room, which was fine with her. All she wanted was a bed.

Back in the van, Ivy had already gotten into her wheelchair. Paige lowered the platform, slung her purse over her shoulder, cross-body, then grabbed a couple of bags with the easy-to-access overnight provisions that they’d used at other rest stops. The motor on Ivy’s wheelchair whirred as she moved forward. The motel still used keys rather than key cards. Leading the way, Paige took them to the number on the key she’d been given. Room #11 was not fancy, but the mild trace of disinfectant that lingered in the air reassured Paige, and the linens and curtains were crisp and clean.

She set the bags on an armchair that faced a small television on a stand. There was one queen-size bed. Paige barely had time to turn back the bedspread before Ivy left her wheelchair and flopped onto the sheets.

Paige closed the curtains, then parted them with a fingertip to peer out at the parking lot. The sun had risen a bit higher and gained some strength, now glinting off the hood of Paige’s van. Her vehicle was still the only one on the lot.

No one had followed them. She and Ivy were safe. Paige released the curtain, letting it fall back into place, then rubbed her fingers across her brow, smoothing a worry line.

She locked the door, then made her way to the bed. Ivy was on her stomach in a deep sleep, one arm stretched out as far as it would go. Paige eased Ivy’s glasses off and set them on the nightstand, then smoothed back her sister’s hair from her face. Paige’s fingers lingered. Lately, she and Ivy had been at odds, and Ivy didn’t welcome Paige’s touch. It hurt to know that, to see Ivy pull away from her. Paige wanted to fix what was wrong between them. They were going to make a fresh start here.

“I’m going to make it right for you,” Paige whispered softly.

When Ivy didn’t stir, Paige pressed a soft kiss to Ivy’s hair.

Paige got up from the bed and found an old black-and-white movie on the television, which she turned on low. As exhausted as she was, lately the only way she could turn off her thoughts and get any sleep at all was by listening to the drone of the television.

Paige’s purse was still slung across her body. She removed it and then took her Glock from inside. As she lowered herself to the bed, she slid her weapon under the mattress.

CHAPTER FOUR

FBI Special Agent in Charge Sam McKade held the gate leading to the backyard open for his son. Seven-year-old Jonah flew under Sam’s arm, racing over the walkway made up of concrete slabs Sam had placed there himself what felt like a lifetime ago. This morning, the fact that he no longer lived in this house was hitting Sam harder than it had since he’d first moved out four years ago.

The boy threw open the back door. Sam glimpsed the kitchen that used to be his kitchen, before the door swung back. Sam caught it just before it would have hit him in the face.

“Hey, Mom!” Jonah called out.

Sam’s ex-wife, Ginny, turned from the stove where she was flipping pancakes. Her eyes widened at seeing Sam standing in the doorway. No doubt she was surprised. Sam didn’t usually come into the house when he brought Jonah home after their weekends together.

Ginny was a petite blonde with a mass of curls she kept short and stylish. She set the spatula on a plate on the counter, then wiped her hands on the apron she wore over pressed jeans and a frilly blouse. She crouched to greet their son.

Jonah threw his arms around his mother. “Dad and me had the best weekend ever!”

Ginny hugged him back just as tightly and smiled. “A ball game on Saturday and the zoo yesterday; I’m sure you did. Now be a little monkey and get washed up for breakfast. The school bus will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“’Kay.”

Jonah ran back to Sam, who was still standing in the doorway, and raised his small fist for a bump. Sam tapped his son’s hand.

“See ya, Dad!”

Jonah spun around and raced through the swinging doors that separated the kitchen from the living room. An instant later, his footsteps pounded on the stairs. Sam heard the creak of the middle step. Ginny hadn’t had that loose tread repaired. She hadn’t changed much about the house since they’d divorced. Not that Sam had noticed anyway. But there’d been one change, a big change, if Sam was understanding things right from Jonah. A change named Herb. Sam’s mouth tightened with the thought.

Ginny retrieved the spatula and scooped the pancakes onto a plate ready and waiting on the counter. “Thanks for taking him for the weekend.”

Though Sam knew Ginny didn’t mean to piss him off, her comment rubbed him the wrong way. Yeah, he was feeling raw today. His jaw tensed. “He’s my son. You don’t need to thank me for spending time with him.”

Ginny rubbed one palm down the front of her jeans, then looked away. “No, I don’t suppose I do.”

Sam knew she hated even the smallest confrontations, and the hurt look on her face made him feel as if he’d kicked a kitten, a feeling he remembered well from their marriage. Even things he’d considered inconsequential, like declining her homemade dessert after dinner, could hurt Ginny. He’d spent most of their marriage apologizing for one thing or another.

Ginny was a good mother, had been a good wife. She and Sam just hadn’t been good together.

“See you next weekend,” Ginny said.

Sam had been a weekend father for a long time, but Ginny pointing it out today rankled. Sam stepped all the way into the kitchen, closing the door behind him, and asked the question that had brought him into the house in the first place. “Who is Herb?”

Ginny’s big blue eyes widened. “Herb Foster.” She rubbed a hand up and down her throat. “He’s our pharmacist. You remember him?”

When Sam moved out of this house and to another part of Kirk County, he’d stopped going to the pharmacy he’d frequented when he’d lived here. He searched his memory and came up with a visual of Herb Foster. Midthirties, like Sam. Lanky. Light-brown hair, balding at the hairline. “Jonah said Herb took him to the science fair and a few other places recently.”

Ginny licked her lips. “Herb’s been spending a great deal of time with Jonah lately.”

Sam leveled his gaze on her. “Jonah cares a lot about Herb. He mentioned him several times this weekend.”

“Yes, he does, and I can tell you Herb’s crazy about Jonah.”

Sam frowned. He knew he had no right to ask, but asked anyway. “Is it serious with you and Herb?”

Ginny smiled and her cheeks went pink. “We’re talking about getting married.”

Sam’s frown deepened.

“This is what I want, Sam,” Ginny said softly. “What I need. Herb is uncomplicated and steady. There are no surprises with him. I know where he is at all times of the day, and if for some reason he needs to leave the pharmacy, he calls me to let me know where he’ll be. Herb’s not going to get called out in the middle of the night to go somewhere or to do something that he can’t talk about when he gets home and that I do not want to know about.”

Ginny shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle, shielding herself against what Sam knew were painful memories from their marriage. She had not been able to live with the demands of Sam’s job or understand why he would want to do what he did. In the end, that had been the deathblow to their dying marriage.

“Herb makes me happy.” She went on. “Please don’t make this difficult for me.”

Again, he felt as if he’d wronged her. He softened his tone and exhaled a deep breath. “I don’t want to make anything difficult for you. I’m happy for you. I want you to be happy.” And he did, but this wasn’t just about Ginny. “I may not be your husband anymore, Gin, but I’m still Jonah’s father. I won’t let him forget that.”

“No one wants him to forget that.”

But when Ginny married Herb, her new husband would spend more time with Jonah than Sam did. Sam might find himself on the outside of his son’s life. There was no way Sam would let that happen.

The house phone rang. Ginny glanced at the phone, then at Sam, then back at the phone. “That’ll be Herb calling to let me know that he’s arrived at work.”

Breaking news, apparently, Sam thought sourly.

“If there’s nothing else, Sam,” Ginny said, “I need to get that.”

Sam’s lips firmed. He turned to the door. As he pushed it open, he glanced over his shoulder at Ginny and raised an eyebrow. “By all means, you get the phone.”

Paige pulled out of the parking lot of the building in the town of Caledon where she’d rented a two-bedroom apartment for herself and Ivy. The building was outside of what was considered the town center. She’d chosen a place that was as far from the flow of Kirk County traffic as she could find.

Paige had spent their first week in Kirk County scouting apartments, enrolling Ivy in school, arranging transportation for Ivy to and from school, and doing the routine things needed for them to start their lives in a new place.

Paige’s invitation to Ivy to check out apartments with her and run errands with her had been met with stony silence. Ivy hadn’t spoken more than a dozen words to Paige since they’d arrived in Kirk County.

Paige glanced over at her sister. Today was Ivy’s first day at her new school. Paige hated seeing Ivy’s sad expression. It wasn’t easy for Ivy to make friends. She was shy by nature and self-conscious of her wheelchair, which she felt made her conspicuous and a curiosity. All Ivy wanted was to blend in, to be like everyone else, and Paige’s heart broke for her sister.

“Kirk High School has a terrific academic program,” Paige said. Ivy had been an A student in New York and Denver, Paige thought with love and pride. Ivy’s grades were important to her, and Paige had been relieved that the move to Denver hadn’t affected them. When Paige’s declaration failed to get a response, she added, “I already mentioned that I enrolled you in the art program. In addition to the art class, there’s also a drawing and painting club you can check out. I was told about it when I was getting you registered. There are field trips scheduled around Kirk for club members to paint in nature, and the club puts on a couple of art shows each year to showcase student work.”

Paige was particularly pleased to learn of the art program. Ivy loved to draw and paint, and her art showed both skill and heart. Though Paige had taken little when they’d moved, she’d carefully wrapped and packed each of Ivy’s paintings and drawings and hung each one carefully on the walls of their new home.

Paige reached the school and parked at the curb by the front entrance. Car doors slammed as a trio of girls and one boy exited a compact car. Another girl strolled with a kind of rolling gait while her thumbs were busy texting on her phone. A boy slung his arm around her shoulders and fell into step beside her.

Ivy remained quiet. Her fingers, their nails recently bitten to the quick, now picked at the threads on the hem of her T-shirt. The nervous gesture said more about her anxiety than a dictionary worth of words. Paige reached out and touched Ivy’s hand. “I could go in with you, walk with you to your first class?”

Ivy’s hand stilled. She turned to face Paige, and the anxiety in her eyes turned to anger. “Leave me alone, Paige. Just leave me alone.”

Before Paige could respond, Ivy lowered the platform and was out of the van. In that moment, Paige felt defeated. She exhaled a shaky breath as she watched Ivy push the button to open the double glass doors. After Ivy disappeared into the school, Paige sat for a few moments, staring at the entrance.

Forcing herself to get moving, Paige drove away from the school slowly. It was a day of firsts for her as well. Glancing at the directions she’d written, she drove to the small Kirk County Bureau field office, her new place of employment.

In the parking lot, she lowered her sun visor and then the cover over the mirror and studied her reflection. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail, baring her face. Beneath the light makeup she wore on the job, her skin was grim and pale. Her large brown eyes betrayed how desolate she felt. Not a good look for meeting her new boss.

She flipped the mirror back up and closed her eyes, working to get herself together. In the past year, she’d learned to disguise herself on demand, to conceal what she was thinking and feeling. She called upon those skills now. When she had her emotions in check, she left the car.

The lobby was decorated in grays and blues. Paige was met by a woman who looked to be in her early sixties and who glanced at the slim watch on her wrist. Paige resisted the urge to check her own watch. She knew she wasn’t late.

The woman was small at under five feet. Though she had to tilt her head back a full six inches to look Paige in the eye, she still managed to look down her nose at Paige.

“You must be Agent Carson.”

The woman stood waiting for Paige to reply. She had a bearing that shouted military and wore an impeccably tailored three-piece suit like a general’s uniform. She looked like she could wait the rest of the day for Paige to respond but challenged Paige to put that to the test. Paige imagined soldiers quaking in her presence.

When Paige realized the woman wasn’t going to smile or offer her hand to shake, she responded with a simple yes.

“I’m Marian Hendershot,” the woman said. “You may call me Mrs. Hendershot. Special Agent in Charge McKade is expecting you. I’ll escort you to him.”

Mrs. Hendershot led the way down a long corridor. The squad room was painted in the same blues and grays as the outer office, and there were several desks, only one of which was occupied. A man in a shirt and tie, with his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, spoke in low tones on the phone.

On the opposite side of the squad room was a conference room. As Mrs. Hendershot came to a stop outside an office, Paige noted a thick door at the end of the hall that acted as a barrier between the squad room and the lobby. That door would lead to the interrogation rooms, and beyond Interrogation were the holding cells.

The office door was open, but Mrs. Hendershot knocked, then remained in the hall until the man seated behind the desk glanced up. Paige noticed he was handsome, with features that were ruggedly male. Dark hair he kept short. A square jaw. Though her assessment of him went no further than simple observation.

“Sir, Agent Carson is here,” Mrs. Hendershot said.

The man rose to his feet. “Agent Carson. Paige.” He extended his hand. “I’m Sam McKade.”

He was a few inches over six feet and wore a charcoal suit that outlined a tough, hard body that showed he hadn’t spent his career behind a desk.

Paige tilted her head back to meet his eyes. He had a penetrating gaze that made her feel as if he could see inside her. She didn’t care for the thought, with what she was hiding about her reasons for the transfer. She put her hand in his. It engulfed hers. “Sir.”

“Sam is fine.” He looked to Mrs. Hendershot. “Thank you, Marian.”

Mrs. Hendershot gave a brisk nod, then closed the door behind her. Sam indicated the two chairs in front of his desk, and Paige lowered herself into one of them. Stacks of papers and a legal pad sat on his desk. Was her personnel file in one of those stacks? Paige told herself it didn’t matter if it was. Sam McKade had already seen it, or she wouldn’t be here. She comforted herself with the knowledge that this wasn’t an interview for the field post. She already had the position. Still, perspiration gathered on the back of her neck.

Sam reclaimed his seat. “When did you arrive in Kirk?”

Paige sat stiffly against the chair back. “Last week.”