Keep Me Safe (23 page)

Ramie sighed and pushed her food around her plate with her fork, stabbing at a clump of eggs. Her stomach revolted at the idea of putting anything down and so she toyed idly with her utensil while she waited for the awkward silence to end.

Her fork clattered loudly on the plate when Dane's phone rang. Her gaze swung upward, a knot quickly forming in her throat. Just because his phone rang didn't mean the worst had happened. He got calls at all times of the day. As Caleb's head of security, it was his job to ensure everything ran smoothly. He and only he reported to Caleb while the rest reported to him.

Dane tensed when he checked the incoming call. He tried to school his features, but Ramie saw his jaw go rigid and the sudden burst of frustration was nearly a tangible thing in the room, flowing between them like an electrical current.

Shaking, she pushed herself off the bar stool and instinctively moved closer to Caleb, seeking the shelter of his much larger frame. A betraying tremor quaked through her body and she reached blindly for his hand, preparing herself for the worst.

“It's him,” she said in a small voice, turning her chin upward so she looked Caleb in the eye. Her mind screamed at him to tell her she was wrong, but she knew the truth for what it was. Could see it reflected in Caleb's gaze as well.

Nausea coiled low in her belly, gliding sickly through her veins. Her mouth watered and she swallowed convulsively. The nightmare was about to begin all over again.

“He has another victim already, doesn't he?”

Caleb secured his arm tightly around Ramie while his other hand was laced with hers as they waited for the revelation Dane would deliver. Ramie's entire body shook and jittered. Color had fled her cheeks, leaving them pale and washed out, her eyes enormous against the delicate bone structure of her face.

How the hell was he supposed to just let her leave the safety of his home and not know what the hell was waiting for her at the crime scene? If there even was a crime scene.

Dane was speaking in a low voice, his features a mask of angry concentration. He swore vividly and Caleb tightened his hold even further around Ramie. If he wasn't careful, he'd leave bruises on her skin. He forced himself to ease up a little but as soon as he did Ramie closed the small distance he'd opened between them and molded herself against his side.

He left her there, content to have her nestled in the crook of his arm.

Dane lowered the phone from his ear, resignation in his eyes.

“He's getting bolder,” Dane said grimly. “He called it in again. This time he gave the police the woman's name and address and asked them to send his regards to Ramie St. Claire and said that any time she wanted to arrange a trade he'd be willing to show mercy toward his most recent victim.”

Ramie went utterly still against Caleb. Only the soft puffs of her breathing registered any sort of life from her. Then slowly she tilted her chin up, seeking his gaze.

“We should go,” she whispered. “Now, while it's early in the game. Before he has time to act out his plan.”

Caleb had never felt so uncertain in his life. It was evident that he was the only one who objected to Ramie trying to establish a connection between her and the killer instead of the reverse.

He swept his gaze between Dane and Eliza and directed his question to them.

“Who do you have on tap for this?”

Ramie looked confused, her brows knitting together above her shadowy eyes. Did she honestly think he'd send her into the unknown without enough firepower to invade a small country?

“I have a six-man team assembled. If you want more, I can get them. But in this case, less is more. We don't want to draw too much attention and if we're moving a dozen security specialists along with Eliza and me, plus you and Ramie, we're going to get noticed,” Dane said.

Caleb remained silent a moment as he contemplated the situation they were in. He trusted Dane's judgment and Eliza's too for that matter. And up until now he would have said that he had absolute confidence in their abilities to protect.

But it had never been personal before. Only with Tori did he assign someone other than himself or Quinn or Beau and even then he'd only trusted Dane and Eliza. Tori didn't go out much at all, so she was never in a position to need more than minimal protection. He frowned, realizing just how little Tori had left the house in the year since her abduction and rape.

The million-dollar question was whether he trusted his multimillion-dollar team of security experts, all versed in personal protection and services, or a bodyguard to keep Ramie safe at all costs.

He could drive himself crazy with second-guessing himself. He locked gazes with Eliza, who coolly returned his, completely unruffled by his apparent hesitation.

Fuck it. He'd made damn certain he and his brothers hired the best. Beau had overseen most of the hiring, although no decision was made until Caleb and Quinn both signed off on it.

“You're taking lead on this, Dane and Eliza,” he said, including them both in his address. He'd never offer Eliza the disrespect of placing Dane above her. She was every bit as capable and cool under fire as Dane was. They made an excellent team and they were both natural leaders.

“I'm trusting you both to make sure nothing touches Ramie,” he said in a low voice. “Take on whatever you think you'll need. This is why I pay my employees a salary instead of doing contract work. I don't want guys who do a side job for extra money. I want unwavering loyalty and for them to be here whenever and however I call them out for a job.”

“She'll be safe,” Dane said.

Though he directed his statement toward Caleb, he was looking at Ramie the entire time as if trying to offer her the same reassurance he was granting Caleb.

Ramie nodded her acknowledgment of his promise but she swallowed noticeably and she still trembled against him.

“How soon?” Caleb asked.

“Now,” Dane replied. “Detective Briggs wants us to meet him and Detective Ramirez there. It'll buy us a little more time. Not much but it could be all we need. Nobody in the department is thrilled with having civilians on an unprocessed crime scene but at this point they're willing to exhaust all available options.”

Left unsaid was the fact that they most likely had doubts about the validity of Ramie's abilities even if the two detectives who'd visited Caleb's home had witnessed Ramie's accuracy in locating the body.

Detectives Briggs and Ramirez likely
did
believe Ramie's capabilities but they were only two detectives in an entire department of skeptics. And the two detectives probably didn't advertise the fact that they had anything to do with Ramie's trek to an unsecured crime scene.

Caleb had to curb his mounting hope. How many times did the police ever have a completely sealed, by-the-books crime scene that hadn't had relatives of the victim or concerned acquaintances stomping through the area before realizing what had happened and called 911?

“Who's staying here with Tori?” Quinn asked. “Surely it's not a good idea to leave the house so unprotected by sending so many of our men with you, Caleb.”

“Dane has it well in hand,” Caleb said calmly.

Then he turned to Ramie as the others prepared to depart. He pulled her into his arms, ensuring he was at his most serious as he turned her to completely face him. He framed her face in his hands, his thumbs feathering over her cheekbones.

“Promise me, Ramie. Promise me you'll do exactly as instructed at all times and nothing more. Don't try any heroics. Got me?”

She cracked a small, rueful smile. “We've already covered that I'm not particularly brave or heroic. So let me say that, while I may not be any of those things, neither am I stupid. I have no intention of doing anything that puts me or any of you at risk.”

“Let's roll then,” Dane said.

TWENTY-SEVEN

RAMIE
shivered when they pulled up to an overgrown single-wide trailer that looked as though it was falling down. They were north of Houston, right on the fringes of a rural community where houses were spaced large distances apart and big pieces of acreage were used in farming and to keep cattle.

It had taken them almost an hour to get there, though it wasn't a great distance as the crow flew. Traffic in the bustling area called the Woodlands had slowed them considerably and all Ramie could think was that the killer had done it on purpose.

Nothing he did could be considered random. He thought everything out to the minutest detail and he planned for every contingency.

Why then had she even bothered to come? She already knew it would be too late for the victim. That the killer was toying with her in an effort to push her over the edge. The women he abducted were merely instruments used to torture her. Nothing else. Their only crime was their accessibility.

The killer wouldn't have chosen someone who would pose a challenge to him. Because they weren't who he was after. He would have needed easy conquests so he could act fast and then have the police involve Ramie.

In essence, she, Caleb, his security and the city and county police were his puppets, dangling from strings while he directed their actions. She couldn't even imagine how many resources were being utilized in the hunt for this madman or the toll it was taking, both financial and psychological.

The two detectives looked haggard, like they hadn't slept in several nights. Dane and the men he oversaw all had determined, focused looks on their faces. There was an air of expectancy that hovered over the crowd of people standing in the front yard and then she realized that they were all looking expectantly . . . ​at her.

The pressure she was under, the expectations and demands placed upon her, weighed heavily on her heart and soul. Her feet dragged as she took a few steps closer to the rickety front porch of the trailer. They were so heavy it felt as though her feet were encased in lead.

“Do I just go in?” Ramie asked, staring in bewilderment at all the people staring back at her.

Their stares left prints on her skin. She fidgeted underneath their scrutiny. She lifted her gaze to Caleb in a silent plea for help. Did they expect her to perform like a circus monkey in front of them all? It felt as though this were some gruesome party where she was expected to entertain everyone by acting out a vicious crime.

“Detective Briggs?” Caleb said, raising his voice to be heard. “If you want Ramie to go in then the rest of you need to stand back and give her breathing room. Have you cleared the trailer yet? Is it even safe for her to go in?”

As he spoke, he put his arm in front of Ramie as if protecting her from whatever was inside.

Detective Briggs nodded shortly. “I realize that we can't ask you not to touch anything given that your gift manifests itself through touching, but if you could limit it to only what's necessary, perhaps we'll be able to collect fingerprints or DNA.”

Ramie knew that was a tenuous hope at best. The killer was getting smarter, not more careless, as he escalated. Most killers probably did get more out of control and more convinced of their invincibility as time went on. But not this one. And Ramie found this kind of killer to be the most frightening of all. What could be worse than a man who couldn't be found or apprehended? Free to kill and torture at will. How could any woman ever feel safe again with men like this out there? He could be a neighbor, a member of the same church, a schoolteacher or even a pastor.

There was no limit to the possibilities and Ramie already knew the killer looked . . . ​ordinary. Good-looking even. Neat and clean. Precise in his movements and meticulous in his dress.

Most women would find such a man harmless in appearance and would be liable to feel comfortable and at ease around him. He was, no doubt, charming and likeable.

What kind of world was it when such monsters lurked in seemingly benign waters?

“I'll take her in,” Dane said. “One of our men and one of the county sheriff's deputies. Touch as little as possible but as much as you need, Ramie. We want to nail this guy for good this time.”

Ramie nodded, her chin trembling with the effort.

“Not without me,” Caleb bit out.

Ramie turned, resting her fingertips on his wrist. “It will be easier if you don't. I need to focus. It could look . . . ​pretty bad.” She grimaced and then lifted her gaze to meet his. “You wouldn't like it. You may even interrupt or intervene.”

“Damn right,” he said vehemently. “The minute this goes south, I'm getting you the hell out of here.”

She gently shook her head. “No. We need to catch him this time. I have to try to look deeper than the surface. I have to see beyond what he
wants
me to see and see the things he
doesn't
. It's our only chance of taking him down. He's too smart to slip up and make a mistake.”

Before he could argue further, and because he would argue the point into the ground, she turned and hurried toward the dilapidated wooden steps that were built onto a small square front landing.

The bottom step cracked as soon as she put her weight on it and her hand flew up to grasp the railing to prevent her falling. Dane gripped her other arm.

“Are you all right?” Dane demanded.

A loud roar burst through her ears, as though a hundred freight trains collided at seventy miles per hour. She swayed precariously and then sagged to her knees, her arm stretched upward because she still had a death grip on the metal handrail and her knuckles were white and straining.

A barrage of images, messy and chaotic, flashed rapid-fire in her mind. They were jumbled and confusing, no apparent rhyme or reason.

Fear had a chokehold on her. Not her fear. The victim's fear.

Pain. Also the victim's.

Triumph. The killer's.

Unfettered glee and satisfaction. Also the killer's.