Killing Me Softly (9 page)

“I…I don't know. I keep it in a little velvet drawstring pouch in my purse, so that it's always with me wherever I— My purse. My
purse!
” She raced out of the room and down the stairs, snatched her purse from the coat hook just inside the entry door and ran back up the stairs again. She went straight to Bryan's still-unmade bed and dumped her bag's contents on it. “I left my purse in the car when I was at your house, and I forgot to lock the doors. When I got back it was spilled all over the place.” As she spoke, she pawed through the contents, pushing aside lip balm, keys, breath mints, receipts, pens, checkbooks and a large wallet. “It's not here.” She blinked, lifting her head and meeting Bryan's eyes. “It's not here, Bry. Not even the pouch. Someone took it…. Maybe that Jaycam guy, or that reporter, Mitchell Brown—he was there. Or…or anyone else. God, it could have been
anyone
.”

“It
wasn't
anyone, though. It was a murderer.” He moved up beside her and started scooping the items off his bed, shoving them back into her handbag.

It occurred to her then, hit her like a bullet, that she'd been that close to a murderer. A serial killer. Copycat or not, this guy was officially a serial killer now, one whose victims all looked like her. And he'd been close enough to her to lift something from her purse.

“Why didn't he just kill
me?
If he was that close to me, why didn't he just— Bryan?”

Bryan closed the flap on her bag. He slid the long strap onto her shoulder. “What are you…?”

“You were right—we need to get out of here.” He picked up the duffel she'd packed for him, zipped it shut and took her hand in his. Dawn grabbed the pile of photos and the manila envelope as he pulled her with him into the hallway. She hurried along in his wake as he headed down the hall to her room and flung open the door. Their roles had reversed completely. It was Bryan now, stalking through the room, snatching up items and cramming them into her suitcase—though most of her things were still packed. She'd been hesitant to unpack, because that would be like admitting she might stay a while, which she'd had no intention of doing, at least at first. She'd been changing her mind, but now she didn't know what to think, much less what to do.

“Get dressed,” Bryan said. “Be quick.”

She nodded, and snatched up the jeans and T-shirt she'd been wearing the day before, pulling them on with her back to Bryan, then tossing her robe to him and watching as he added it to the stuffed suitcase.

He ignored the empty pill bottle on the nightstand, but within maybe thirty seconds, every other item in the room was stowed. He grabbed her laptop, putting it in last, before closing the suitcase.

And then he had her hand again, tugging her with him into the hall and down the stairs.

“What about Beth and Josh?” she asked. “Shouldn't we wake them, tell them—”

“We'll call them later. Before the police get around
to tapping the phones, I hope.” They crossed the foyer and were out the door, down the porch steps and climbing into his Mustang before Dawn could say more.

He slung the bags into the backseat and got behind the wheel. Then he fired up the car and backed out of the driveway, shifted and drove down the road.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“I don't know, Dawn. All I know is that I'm
not
going to wake up to find your body lying cold beside me. I'll fucking
die
before I'll let that happen.”

“And that's what you think it means—my necklace being on her body? That I'm going to be the next one he kills?”

He met her eyes, and his were harder and colder and more intense than she had ever seen them. In that moment, her gentle childhood sweetheart looked downright dangerous.

“Over my dead body,” he said. “And let me tell you this, Dawn, if I go down, I'm taking this bastard with me. There's no way I'll let him near you. No fucking way. Not
ever
.”

T
hey'd driven for an hour, putting a solid fifty miles between them and Shadow Falls. And they'd passed that entire time with barely a word spoken between them. She knew he was deep in thought, probably working through a lot in his head. So she thought she would just give him the quiet. They were as good together in silence as they'd always been. They'd never needed constant talking to connect.

They'd been blasting the MP3 player the entire time, and many of the older songs took her back in time. The newer ones were recordings she liked, a lot of them songs she had added to her own collection. They still seemed to be on the same wavelength. And then she decided it was time to discuss what they were doing.

“We can't go too much farther, Bry,” she told him.

He frowned at her. “Sure we can. The more distance we put between you and the killer, the better.”

“We're not going to be able to solve this thing if we go too far away.”

He swung his head to look at her, his eyes widening. “
Solve
this thing? You still think I'm going to let you play Nancy Drew with this? Dawn, your
life
is in danger. Haven't you figured that out yet?”

She pursed her lips, trying to figure a way to reason with him and knowing she wasn't going to do it with her brain spinning the way it was. There was too much going on in there: too many choices, too much information, too many questions. She glanced up as if seeking help from beyond and, like a beacon of hope, saw a Dunkin' Donuts sign up ahead.

“Take this exit, will you? I need food, and I need coffee.”

“I don't want to stop.”

“Stop, or I'll open the door and jump.”

He frowned at her. She tried to soften the threat with a wobbly smile. “I'm scared, Bry. For you
and
for me. And I want a freaking cup of coffee, so just don't argue about it, okay?”

The desperation—which was the main emotion she'd seen in him since he'd spotted the locket in the photo—finally faded from his eyes. A softness returned to them. The softness she was used to seeing whenever he looked at her. God, how she'd missed it.

She'd missed it for five years now. Five damn long years. Five years too long.

He flipped on the signal light, and took the exit. Then they followed the signs pointing the way to nirvana, and went to the drive-through window rather than take even the slightest chance of being seen. He ordered two
breakfast sandwiches, two large coffees, four bottles of water and a half dozen assorted doughnuts. Then he glanced her way and took in her raised eyebrows.

“Just in case we're on the road a while,” he said. “We'll need sustenance.”

“Sustenance? We eat all that, we're going to have to stop someplace for bigger jeans.”

He laughed, his face relaxing. His dimples flashed and made her go soft inside, and she felt that same old warmth suffuse her. “It's been a while since I've heard you laugh,” she said softly. “It's good to hear that sound again.”

“I'm sorry if I've been acting like an ass all morning. It shook me, thinking that bastard might come after you next.”

“I know. Just like it shook me to think you might be arrested today. Neither of us has really been thinking straight, Bryan. In a way, it kind of says something about us, don't you think? About…you know, how much we still…care about each other.”

“Caring was never the problem. Caring too much, maybe.” He shrugged, then they fell silent as he accepted two bags from the girl at the drive-through window. He handed them over to Dawn, then drove around the building and out of the parking lot, only to continue down the street until he came to a grocery store with a lot of cars in its parking lot. He pulled into a spot among them and cut the engine.

Dawn had already set the coffee in the cup holders in the console between them. Then she dug out
the sandwiches, handing him one and unwrapping her own.

“I don't know what to do,” Bryan confessed. “But every instinct I have is telling me to put you on the first possible flight back to California.”

She took a bite of her sandwich, chewed it slowly and washed it down with a sip of the still-too-hot-to-enjoy coffee, holding his eyes the entire time. Then she said, “But you know I won't go.”

“Dawn…”

“I won't go, Bryan.”

“What if he kills you?”

“What's to stop him from following me home and doing it there? Would I really be any safer? He knows who I am. He's been through my purse. He probably has my home address, my social security number and my credit card and bank account numbers. Shit, he could have made impressions of my house and car keys if he wanted to. So why would I be any safer there?”

“He wouldn't follow you.”

“You don't know that.”

He sighed, shook his head and started eating. She ate a little more, too. Then she said, “On the other hand, what if he tries to come after me while I'm here? What if he tries to kill me but we're ready for him? Expecting it?” She nodded as the idea took root and began to grow. “That's it, I think. We can set a trap for that bastard. That's how we'll catch him and clear your name.”

“Yeah, set a trap and take him by surprise. Good plan, except for the part where we use you as bait. Oh,
and also, except for the little fact that he
wanted
us to know he'll be coming after you.” She frowned, studying his face. He went on. “Think about it. Why else would he plant that locket on the victim?”

“Maybe he just did it to make you look more guilty, Bry. It has your initials on it, after all.”

“He could have bought something with my initials. He took this from
you
. He
wanted
us to know you're in his sights. So we can pretty much figure he'll be ready for a trap, as well. That might even be just what he wants us to try.”

Dawn mulled that over as she ate her sandwich. “He couldn't have
bought
a lock of your hair, though. Maybe what he wants is for you to send me packing so he can have a clear shot at me.” She tipped her head to one side. “Or maybe he just wants to send me running scared, so he can have an easier time framing you for his crimes.”

“Right. He's that impressed by your amateur sleuthing skills, as reported thirdhand by a Burlington journalist.”

She shot him a pseudo-insulted look. “A journalist who
also
mentioned I was rumored to be in contact with the dead. A murderer might get a little nervous about someone who could talk to his victims. I go home, he might feel a little more at ease. He's just trying to scare me away.”

“Even assuming he believes you can talk to ghosts, are you saying a guy who kills women for kicks and then decides one particular woman is a threat to him
figures the solution is to scare her into leaving town? Makes
perfect
sense.”

“Read my lips, Bryan. I'm. Not. Going. Home.”

“Okay, okay, you going home is off the table.”

“Thank you.”

“So then, what do we do?”

She popped the last bit of her sandwich into her mouth and chewed. “We investigate. We figure out who he is, and we bust him. We can do this, Bryan. But not with you behind bars, and Nick doesn't think you'll be granted bail, since there's been another murder.”

“He's probably right.”

“So that's the first thing we know for sure. We have to keep you out of jail—”

“And you alive,” he put in.

“And me alive. So we stay in hiding while we dig. Are we agreed on that much?”

He nodded. “I think it's our only option. If I'm behind bars, I can't be sure you're safe.”

“My hero.”

He shot her a mildly offended look, but she smiled away the sting. “Hey, I'm just saying I'm not entirely helpless. Besides, there's your dad and Rico, and Nick, if we need reinforcements.”

He nodded. “I know. I know. I just—”

“You'd go nuts worrying if you couldn't watch over me yourself.” She lowered her head. “I'm surprised—gratified, too—that you still…you know…give a damn, after what I've put you through.”

“I'm not entirely dense, you know. I get that you were
running scared. Hell, if I had ghosts popping out of the woodwork, pestering me day and night, I'd probably want to run and hide, too.”

He was trying to ease her mind, probably because she might end up dead if things went badly. But she knew he'd been terribly hurt and angry, and that he wasn't over those feelings. Not by a long shot.

“Looks like I was running for nothing,” she said. “They won't talk to me at all now, not even when I ask.”

He shrugged. “They're just people. Dead people, but still, people are people. There's only so much rejection people can take before they just stop trying.”

She shot him a look, knowing that statement had been personal, and that he meant it. And even though she'd already surmised as much, it hurt a little to hear it.

He fished out a doughnut and began eating it, making it clear he didn't want to continue that leg of the conversation. It almost made her laugh the way he held an open napkin underneath his face as he ate, catching every crumb that fell, to protect his precious Mustang.

Personally, she thought new cars all belonged in junkyards. They had nothing on the classics. “So what did you pay for this thing?” she asked.

“Forty, give or take. A steal for a Shelby.”

She snorted through her nose, and when he shot her a look, she shrugged. “I paid five grand for my 'Vette. And now it's showroom-worthy.”

He shrugged. “I wouldn't give five cents for a Chevy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You always were a Ford guy. But you'll never win that argument with me.”

“I have backup now. Nick's in total agreement.”

“Oh, well, if Nick is on your side, then I
must
be wrong. Even if I
am
the one in the car biz.”

He grinned at her, and she smiled back. The volley was an old familiar one, and it had broken through some of the tension that had been building between them again.

Sighing, she got back to the more immediate considerations. “We need to let your parents know that we're safe, and what we're planning. Otherwise, they'll worry themselves sick.”

He nodded. “We should go to the bank and withdraw some cash, then get moving, so we'll be far away once the police start checking my accounts.”

He lowered his head. “I hate this.”

“I know. So I'll distract you with something you'll probably think is even worse. We need to ditch this car,” she said.

Bryan had finished the doughnut, wadded up the napkin and was tucking it into the empty bag that had contained the sandwiches, but he stopped to look across at her, his expression one of horror.
“Ditch?”

“Figure of speech.”

He closed his eyes. “This car is my baby,” he said, stroking the dash. “We need to store it somewhere safe.”

“Airport garage? They have security cameras.”

He shook his head. “That's the first place the police would check. And if they find her, they'll impound her and start tearing her apart, looking for trace evidence.

I can't leave her anyplace that obvious.”

He looked at Dawn, then sighed. “And don't pretend you don't get that.”

“I
totally
get that. She
is
a great car, by the way.” She shrugged. “For a new model, I mean.”

“Yeah.”

“Let me call my boss,” she suggested.

Bryan lifted his brows. “What good will that do? He's a continent away. Besides, are you sure you can you trust him?”

“Yes. Not that the police would think to contact him, anyway. He deals with garages all over the country, and he might know one around here where we could stow the car and even get a loaner without too many questions asked.”

“That's a really good idea, Dawn.” He shook his head. “You're the one who should've been a cop.”

“I dislike rules and regulations too much. I'd have been drummed out my first year.”

“Beats facing a murder rap your second.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, but the heat that moved from his body to hers at that touch made her wonder if it was a good idea. She resisted jerking her hand away too fast, though—that would be obvious—and just left it there, letting that feeling move from his
flesh into hers. She could have closed her eyes at how good it felt.

“They'll be all over our cell phone accounts,” she said softly when she finally removed her hand, speaking to cover her awareness of the physical pull that still lived between them. “Once they figure out we're both missing. In fact, we can't be sure that hasn't happened yet.”

“You're right. Is yours turned off, by the way?”

She nodded.

“Good. So, steps one and two, we find a pay phone and we find a bank. After that, we'll drive back toward Shadow Falls and get a place to hole up, because that's the exact opposite direction they'll assume we were heading.”

She lifted one brow. “That's really good.”

“Yeah, well, I'm
supposed
to be good at this stuff.”

He put the car into gear and pulled back into traffic, this time looking for anyplace that might still have a pay phone. It took some doing to find one. They were going out of favor these days, when everyone had a cell. But eventually they located a gas station with a pay phone outside it.

“Be careful what you say, Bryan.” Dawn knew she didn't need to tell him that. But she felt compelled, anyway. “We can't be sure our parents' phones haven't been tapped already.”

“Yeah, the minute they figure out we've gone off the grid, they're going to be all over Beth and Josh.”