Midnight Fear (15 page)

C
aitlyn held her cell phone as she sat on the couch in Reid’s apartment. She’d checked her voice mail at the stables to find several messages from the D.C. press, all requesting a statement about the emergence of a second Capital Killer. The reporters wanted a sound bite from her about someone emulating Joshua’s crimes. If they knew she had very nearly been a victim of the copycat herself, they’d no doubt be camped out at the Rambling Rose gates. Publicity like that could shut down her program, she realized. Caitlyn sighed inwardly. Even without Hal Feingold’s book, it was starting all over again.

She looked around the small yet well-furnished apartment. At least here she had a safe haven. But Caitlyn knew she would have to go back soon. Without Manny there, the stables needed her, and she needed to put some distance between herself and Reid. Being near him like this made it too easy to depend on him—something that would only cause them both trouble and hurt.

“How was your nap?” he called from the kitchen over a clatter of pots and pans.

“Refreshing,” Caitlyn replied, deciding not to tell him about the messages just yet. She stood, stretching briefly to test the soreness of her muscles. After they’d stopped at a Target so Caitlyn could purchase a few necessities, a toothbrush and underwear among them, she’d fallen asleep on the couch. She came into the kitchen, enticed by the aroma of something on the stove. Her stomach growled and she realized that she hadn’t eaten in hours.

Reid wore faded jeans and a long-sleeved, white T-shirt. He stood at the stove, stirring a large pot with a wooden spoon.

“Chicken chili,” he announced. “Nothing fancy, but it’s pretty good.”

“It smells great.”

He held the wooden spoon to his lips, gently blowing on its contents, then offered it to Caitlyn for a taste. It was reminiscent of him feeding her dessert that night at Agava.

“Delicious,” she said around the spicy mouthful. She fanned her mouth. “And hot.”

“It’ll be ready soon. We’re just waiting on the bread.” Reid wiped his hands on a dishtowel as his gaze traveled over her. “The sweats are a little big, but they’ll do.”

Caitlyn wore a pair of Reid’s sweatpants and a gray sweat jacket with the University of Virginia printed across its front in bold maroon letters. The sleeves had been turned up to accommodate her smaller frame. She
had managed to dress herself, although it had taken close to a half hour and Reid’s help in zipping up the jacket. She blushed, recalling that he had briefly seen her bare stomach and bra as he provided assistance.

“Reid,” she began hesitantly. “I want to thank you for…everything. For letting me stay here tonight, and for taking me to visit Mom today.”

He lifted a beer from the counter and took a sip. “We’re hoping to have some kind of security in place at your home soon. I’m waiting to hear.”

Caitlyn nodded, wondering if he would be glad to have her off his hands. He looked handsome—sexy—in the comforts of his own kitchen, cooking a meal. Even with his job, it seemed odd he wasn’t in a serious relationship.
For all I know, maybe he is,
she thought. Maybe there was a girlfriend he had failed to mention—one who’d be unhappy about Caitlyn even being here. If that were the case, she’d be even less pleased about their heated kiss at her farm. She did her best to push away the mental image of herself in Reid’s arms. His kiss had broken through the wall she’d built around herself and the numbness she’d existed in for too long. But its aftermath had also wedged a tension between them. They had both taken a step back and realized the inappropriateness of their attraction to one another.

Things had simply gone too far.

Caitlyn walked to the desk where Reid apparently paid his bills and handled other housekeeping tasks. Above it, a window provided a view of the lively Adams Morgan neighborhood. Small, white lights decorated
trees lining the sidewalk and an ethnic restaurant—a place cleverly and suggestively called Thai Me Up—was located across the street. Its name flashed on the glass of its storefront in neon letters. Next to it, a dark-windowed establishment appeared to be a bar. A man and woman stood to the left of the door, entangled in a heated make-out session under the shadow of the building’s awning. Caitlyn watched guiltily for several seconds before moving her gaze back to the desktop with its neat stacks of bills and mail. Reid’s cell phone lay next to a notepad bearing his handwriting.

Dr. Isrelsen, test results
.

There was a number to call.

Caitlyn frowned. Reid was tumor-free, he’d told her that himself. She wondered if it had simply been a follow-up visit, a final pronouncement of his good health. But physicians usually just left news like that in a voice mail message, didn’t they? It was news of the other variety they wanted to discuss in person.

“Dinner’s ready.”

Caitlyn turned as Reid set two earthenware bowls on the table next to a basket of bread.

“I’d offer you a beer but with the medication you’re taking…”

“Water’s good,” she murmured, studying his face. His even features gave no indication of anything wrong. He pulled out a chair for her and helped her settle into it with her sling.

“How long do you have to wear that?” he asked, sit
ting at the other side of the table once he’d filled a glass with ice water and placed it in front of her.

“A couple of days, to keep me from jarring it. Then I can just wear the brace the hospital gave me.” Caitlyn lifted the spoon to her mouth, grateful again the injured hand wasn’t her right one. “Regardless, it’s going to be difficult mucking out stalls for a while.”

She chewed and swallowed. “This really is delicious.”

“Good,” he said. “You need to eat, Caitlyn. You’ve lost weight.”

Caitlyn gathered her courage. “Reid, are you sure you’re all right? I mean, the stress of all this must be weighing on you, too, and I know you’re recovering—”

“I’m fine.” He moved the chili in his bowl around with his spoon. “I’m recertifying on firearms at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow. And I start back to work officially on Monday.”

Caitlyn wanted to ask about the note she had seen but didn’t want him to think she’d been snooping. She let the matter drop for now.

They were clearing away the dishes when a knock sounded at the door.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Caitlyn asked.

“No. Wait here.” Moving to the desk, Reid extracted a gun box from one of the lower drawers. He removed his firearm and then peered carefully between the window blinds. Caitlyn saw his shoulders visibly relax.

“Who is it?”

“My sister.” He opened the door and an attractive woman with dark hair the same color and texture as Reid’s bustled inside, bringing in with her the noise from the busy street below.

“Megan. What are you doing here?”

“Nice greeting,” she said, eyeing the gun in his hand with an arched eyebrow. “Cooper and the kids are in the car. We’re going to that Mexican restaurant the girls like, the one with the mariachi band? I thought you might want to join us.”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I did and got your voice mail. Maybe you should try answering once in—” She stopped, spotting Caitlyn who stood behind the island that separated the kitchen from the living area. “Oh…you’ve got company.”

Reid scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Megan, this is Caitlyn Cahill.”

“I know who she is.” Although she wasn’t rude, her voice held a distinct coolness. Not that Caitlyn could blame her, not after what her father had done to Reid in order to waylay the investigation into Joshua. Caitlyn detected an instant protectiveness in Megan’s eyes.

“Hello,” Caitlyn said quietly. She walked closer, joining them.

“We just ate, actually.” Reid laid the gun on the desk and indicated the kitchen where dishes were still being rinsed and placed in the dishwasher.

“God. What happened to you?” Megan’s gaze swept over Caitlyn’s sling and the ugly bruise on her right
temple. Caitlyn looked at Reid, who rubbed his forehead with the index finger of his right hand.

“Megan…”

“I was attacked in a parking garage two mornings ago,” Caitlyn answered truthfully. “I just got out of the hospital.”

Megan turned to Reid. “This is tied to the copycat, isn’t it? It’s been all over the news, which is exactly why I came over here.”

“And the truth comes out.” Reid released an exasperated breath. “Now it makes sense why you drove all the way from Silver Spring on a Wednesday night for fish tacos. You were checking up on me.”

“Don’t you think someone should?” She lowered her voice, although Caitlyn could still hear her clearly. “That case nearly destroyed you, and it’s all coming back again. Dad said he left you a message, too.”

“Give me a break, Megan. Dad understands the job. You should, too.”

Caitlyn bit her lip in silence. She could tell Reid was irritated with his sister, but what she also saw was a close, caring sibling relationship, one that made her yearn for a normal family.

Reid placed his hands on his sister’s shoulders, gently turning her around and guiding her toward the door. “Go have dinner. Tell the girls I said hello. Cooper, too.”

His cell phone rang. He walked over to check its screen. “It’s Mitch. I need to take this. Good night, Megan.”

He went into the bedroom, leaving Caitlyn and
Megan alone. Reid’s sister remained at the door, her hand on the knob, although she hadn’t yet opened it. Caitlyn didn’t look away from her evaluating gaze.

“The media doesn’t know about the attack on me,” Caitlyn said hesitantly, breaking the tense silence. “Reid…the FBI…they’re hoping to keep it out of the news.”

“They’re protecting you. Don’t you find that a little ironic?”

Caitlyn’s reply was soft. “I do.”

The two women continued staring at each other until Reid emerged from the bedroom. He picked up his jacket from the arm of the couch. “Megan, what are the chances of you, Cooper and the girls staying here for about forty-five minutes? I need to take care of something—”

“That’s not necessary,” Caitlyn interrupted. “I’m perfectly fine by myself.”

“Megan?” Reid asked again. He’d moved to the security box to place his weapon inside it, then locked it and returned it to the drawer. “If you guys can’t wait for dinner, there’s about a half ton of chicken chili leftovers in the fridge.”

Megan sighed and pulled her cell phone from her purse. “I’ll tell Cooper to look for a parking spot.”

“Tell him he can have mine.” His eyes met Caitlyn’s briefly, and then he disappeared through the door.

Where was he going? Caitlyn carefully shifted her hand in the sling and wondered how she would get through the next forty-five minutes.

“Reid’s taken a personal interest in you,” Megan acknowledged, her gray eyes narrowing fractionally. Caitlyn had seen Reid use that same tactic before to express his disbelief over something. The family resemblance between them was remarkable.

“After everything the Cahills put him through, what I’d like to know is why,” she said.

“I’m part of his job.”

“He’s not on the job right now. Supposedly.”

Caitlyn took a small breath. She understood her hostility,
she did
.

“Well, as long as you plan to interrogate me, maybe you could do it while I take a shower?” She indicated her injured hand. “The truth is, I could really use some female assistance.”

“A
re you still in touch with your brother?”

Caitlyn heard Megan’s question through the noise of the running water. Her shower completed, she reached for the faucet handle and turned it off, standing briefly in the heavy steam cloud before answering.

“No. At least, not until recently.” She accepted the large towel Megan held out to her through the closed shower curtain. “Reid took me to Springdale Penitentiary to talk to him a few days ago.”

“Why?”

“Because Joshua killed other women, apparently. More than those he went to prison for.” Caitlyn tried not to think of what Joshua had said to her, about her being his muse and the things he’d wanted to do to her. She slid back the shower curtain, the striped towel held in front of her for modesty. “He promised to give up the location of the remains only if I would come see him.”

Shock was evident on Megan’s features. She sat on
the edge of the vanity, sipping a beer she’d commandeered from Reid’s refrigerator. “Did he?”

“He gave up one. I’ll have to see him again to get the others.”

“How many others?”

“They’re not sure.”

“I can’t imagine,” Megan admitted.

“You don’t have to,” she replied. “Your brother is a good man.”

Water dripped from her hair, making a soft plunking sound on the molded plastic shower floor. Megan eyed her silently over the top of her beer bottle. Then she stood and placed the bottle next to the sink and helped Caitlyn into Reid’s terry cloth robe. Caitlyn used her good hand to blot her shoulder-length hair with the towel. Even in the steamed mirror, the bruise on her temple was visible.

“How did you get into the sweats earlier?” Megan asked, frowning as she watched Caitlyn’s slow, careful movements that reflected the soreness she felt. “Did Reid—”

She shook her head. “I mostly managed it myself, but it took forever. I appreciate the help.”

“That was
really
none of my business,” Megan said, sounding embarrassed. She seemed to be loosening up a little. “Reid’s the law enforcement officer in the family, but I’ve been told I’m the real interrogator. He’d strangle me if he knew I’d asked you…”

She stopped speaking, realizing her faux pas. Caitlyn
knew what she was thinking—Joshua had strangled his victims.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Megan had introduced Caitlyn to her family—albeit coolly—before they had gone into the bathroom together. They’d decided to wait and have dinner at the Mexican restaurant, so Megan’s husband and daughters were now in the living room, watching a sitcom on the flat-screen television. The younger of the girls was talking excitedly about her day at school, her voice carrying through the door panel.

“Maddie and Isabelle are adorable,” Caitlyn said, changing the subject.

“They’re a handful,” Megan conceded. “But totally worth it.”

“I’m sure.”

She watched as Caitlyn ran a brush through her wet hair.

“I know you…helped…in the Capital Killer case. That you turned over evidence to prove your brother’s guilt.” Megan shook her head. “And I also know that I shouldn’t be angry with you about the investigation, but I can’t help it.”

Her gray eyes were so similar to Reid’s and just as direct. “Your father put Reid through hell, you know. He nearly lost his position at the VCU, everything he’s worked for over the past nine years.”

“I know,” Caitlyn said quietly. Pain and regret weighed on her.

“Reid’s been ill.”

“I know that, too.”

“He’s better now, but it doesn’t keep me from being overprotective.” Megan sighed as she tugged pensively at the beer’s label, peeling it from the bottle. “Our mother died of a brain tumor when Reid and I were just kids. It made us pretty close.”

Caitlyn thought of the note she’d found in Reid’s handwriting. Anxiety fluttered inside her, but she didn’t bring it up. She hadn’t known his mother had died from the same illness—something that must have made the diagnosis more terrifying for all of them.

“Sometimes I think the Capital Killer investigation caused the tumor to grow in his head.” Megan shrugged. “Pretty crazy, I know. But he took the investigation so personally. Every victim got to him. I’m worried about it happening again.”

Her eyes seemed to say,
and I’m afraid you’re the reason he’s involved this time.

“Reid takes his work seriously. It’s an important job.”

Megan nodded. “He’s good at what he does—he’s great actually, according to his superiors. He has more commendations than any other agent his age. But he doesn’t have what our dad calls ‘cool detachment.’”

And that was exactly what made Reid different, Caitlyn thought. It was what separated him from men like Mitch Tierney, who treated suspects and victims with an almost equal cynicism. But at the same time, she knew it must be hard to see what they saw and not become
hardened by it. That tough, protective shell was also a necessity.

“The brain tumor Reid had,” she asked, “was it hereditary?”

“You know how squirrelly doctors can be about things like that.” Megan sat the now-empty bottle on the vanity and wiped her hands on her skirt. “It was the same type. Reid was lucky, though. His was benign and operable. Still, it was a major surgery. The recuperation was pretty bad.”

“He told me how fortunate he was to have you,” Caitlyn said. She thought it was something his sister should know.

Megan bowed her head. “Did you know he had a fiancée?”

The pang Caitlyn felt surprised her. “What happened?”

“They met after the Capital Killer case. They started dating and then moved in together before getting engaged. Andrea broke things off…after they found the tumor. She couldn’t handle the thought of Reid being incapacitated, or even dying, if the surgery failed.”

“How terrible,” Caitlyn murmured. She wondered how someone who claimed to love Reid could have deserted him when he needed her most. The question left her lips before she’d even realized it. “Does he still have feelings for her?”

“I don’t think so. I know they haven’t been in touch.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Reid’s been through a lot. He doesn’t need
to get hurt again.” The two women stared at each other for several meaningful seconds. Then Megan took a step toward the door. “I’m going to go check on the girls. I’ll be back in a minute to help you get dressed.”

She left Caitlyn alone with her thoughts. Her mind traveled to her own fiancé who had broken up with her after Joshua’s arrest. The losses were something she and Reid had in common.

Reid stood beside Mitch in the foyer of the Cahills’ Georgetown mansion, listening as the Bureau’s blood-spatter specialist gave a rundown on the scene. Lucy Kim’s black hair appeared glossy underneath the lights of the crystal chandelier.

“Medium velocity impact spatter indicates blunt force trauma, consistent with the blood pool on the carpet.” Lucy indicated the dark, congealing stain on the Oriental rug, then led them to the curved staircase with its carved mahogany rail. “The bloodstain on the wall is a transfer, most likely made by the victim’s hand.”

Reid studied the gruesome smear on the elegant fleur-de-lis wallpaper. “She was trying to get away.”

“She made it as far as the stairs, which is where it appears the perpetrator hit her again. Judging by the dryness of the stains, I’d estimate it happened five to six hours ago.” Lucy pushed her stylish, horn-rimmed glasses higher on her nose. “My team will be done soon. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said, giving her a wolfish grin. “When are we going out, doll?”

Lucy smiled sweetly. “When hell freezes over, Agent Tierney.”

She walked past him, her designer high heels clicking on the Italian marble flooring. “And by the way, nice cologne.”

Once Lucy was out of earshot, Mitch looked at Reid. “You think my aftershave’s too strong?”

“A little,” he admitted.

“Damn. It’s new.” Mitch sniffed the lapel of his jacket, testing it out for himself. “I had a date. Or at least I did until I got a call from the D.C. police.”

The residence was a hive of activity, with evidence techs scurrying about and policemen blocking the front entrance.

“Who discovered the blood?” Reid asked.

“The real estate agency Bliss Harper works for sent someone over here after she didn’t report back to her office this afternoon. She’d said she was coming by to take photos of the interior for a sales flyer.” Mitch peeled the latex gloves from his hands and tossed them into a brass umbrella stand. “Instead of Ms. Harper, they found this mess. The blood’s presumably hers, since she’s nowhere to be found.”

“Someone went by her home? Checked with her family and friends?”

“No one’s seen her since lunchtime today. And she’s not answering her cell phone. Everyone says it’s out of the ordinary for her.”

Reid stared up at the chandelier. The foyer was brightly lit so Forensics could do its job. Through the
window, he noticed a news van had pulled onto the street outside. “Any sign of a weapon?”

“No weapon, no body. Uniforms did a grid search of the premises.” Mitch adjusted his shoulder holster. “She was attacked and, judging by the blood, injured. The unsub probably dragged her into a vehicle out back. The service entrance is secluded. There’s an overgrown hedge back there taller than me.”

“Bludgeoning wasn’t part of Joshua Cahill’s M.O.”

“No. Maybe the copycat is adding a few twists of his own.”

“Or she fought back.” Reid felt tension knot the muscles in his neck. “Things didn’t go according to plan.”

He didn’t look forward to telling Caitlyn about the likely abduction of her friend, or the fact that it had taken place at her family home. But based on the news van’s arrival, the story would be on the ten o’clock news. Hopefully, he’d have a chance to talk to her before she saw it on TV.

“All I know is this—Hunter’s still out there somewhere. And he’s been seen outside the residence before, by Caitlyn Cahill herself,” Mitch pointed out. “Let’s just consider for a second that he came back here, hoping to confront Ms. Cahill again. Instead he ran into Bliss Harper. Another attractive blonde.”

Reid had to admit the scenario made sense. Still, the picture was incomplete. “To our knowledge, Hunter doesn’t own a white van like the one used in the attempted abduction on Caitlyn.”

“Maybe he jacked it. Or bought it hot off the street.”

Reid thought for a moment. “What did the evaluating doctors tell you about Hunter?”

“They never got a chance to complete the full psychological review before he escaped, but he’s clearly disturbed.”

“Enough to be capable of murder?”

“I couldn’t get them to go that far.”

“Any word on protection for Caitlyn yet?”

Mitch shook his head. “Not yet. Where is she, anyway?”

Reid didn’t want Mitch to know she was staying at his apartment. Instead he said, “With Megan and her family.”

It wasn’t a total lie, he rationalized. At the moment, she
was
with them. Reid only hoped Megan hadn’t taken the opportunity to rake Caitlyn over the coals. She’d been through enough already. “I’ve got to get back. Thanks for the call.”

Mitch walked him to the door. “No problem. I figured you’d want to see this firsthand. Hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Reid lied.

“You’ve got your firearms recertification in the morning, right?”

“At eight o’clock.”

“Good luck.” Mitch jerked his head toward Agent Morehouse, who was talking to one of the uniforms on the other side of the room. He’d been called to the scene from his home, apparently, and was wearing dark warm-ups that made him look like the center on a high school basketball team.

“I’ll be losing an errand boy, but gaining my real partner back,” Mitch said.

Once outside, Reid went down the steps and past the news van, ignoring the reporter who called out to him asking for a comment on whatever was going on inside the house. It wasn’t hard, since his mind was on other things. Things that actually went beyond the current investigation, or even Caitlyn.

The first voice mail message had been left on his cell yesterday. The second one, this morning.

It’s important you contact us, Mr. Novak. We’d like to make an appointment for you with Dr. Isrelsen at your earliest convenience. It’s about the results of your MRI.

Reid had been using the events of the past two days as a distraction. But if the worst were true, it was something he couldn’t run from forever.