Mind Reader (30 page)

He gave her thigh a little squeeze, then laced their fin
gers together. “Sanders isn’t looking good in this.”

“No, but Decker lied. Sandy didn’t kill Linda.”

Parker cocked his head and cranked the engine. “I know
you’ve been friends with Sanders for a long time, but him
killing her fits. From the nonexistent kidnapping report all the way to the affair with Linda, it fits.” Parker snapped on
the headlights. “Sanders wouldn’t be the first man to bury a report, or to kill a woman for duping him.”

“I’m not sure about the report. But Sandy didn’t kill Linda,” Caron insisted. “Decker’s lying about that, I just
know it.”

“Okay. Let’s talk this through. Decker said he hadn’t
seen Killer’s leash since Sandy had it at his house, right?”

“Right.” The gearshift clicked into drive.

“He said it before we mentioned it, Caron. He knew she’d been strangled with a leash.”

Caron frowned. “The police wouldn’t release that information, not yet. Sanders was breaching protocol in tell
ing us about it.”

“Right. But he did tell us. And if the police know it was
a dog leash, then they must have it.”

“Decker made it a point to mention that he hadn’t seen the leash since Sandy was at his house—
before
Linda had
been killed. The police don’t know where she died, Parker.
Decker said he saw Linda ‘deader than dirt’ in the grass,
but by the time he got to the camp—remember? That puts him at the murder scene, Parker. And the leash had to have been wrapped around her neck. I mean, she wasn’t likely to have removed it after she’d been murdered, then replace it
after she’d been moved to the house.”

“Maybe it was a slip of the tongue. Maybe Sanders told
Decker, too.”

“Sandy didn’t tell Decker. It was a slip of the tongue. But
it was also the truth. Sandy didn’t kill Linda. He probably
buried the report. But if he had killed her, he would have
buried the leash, too. He’d never have told us about it. Decker saw that leash around Linda’s neck, Parker. And it wasn’t at any three-thirty or four. It was at two, exactly as
the coroner said.”

Parker slid her a sidelong look. “You know who killed
her.”

“No, but I’m close. Something’s niggling at me.” She dug into her purse for a candy bar. “I’ll figure it out.”

“No, ma’am.” Parker stayed her hand. “No candy.
We’re going to eat a decent meal and get some rest.”

“But we’re getting so close to Misty.”

“We’re running on nerves. We need fuel. Not mistakes.”

“Look.” Caron pointed through the windshield.

A group of carolers were singing ‘Silent Night’ on a brightly illuminated porch. Caron hoped it was a good omen. Three days till Christmas and, more than anything,
Caron wanted Misty safe and sound.

Parker turned the corner, then looked over at Caron. “Okay, don’t pout.” He checked his watch. “It’s nearly midnight. We’ll eat, rest for a couple of hours, then get
back to business.”

“Okay,” Caron said reluctantly. He was right. They did
need food and rest. If they were tired and hungry, they were
more apt to make mistakes. They’d come too far and gotten too close to mess this up now. “But first thing in the morning.” Caron shifted her gaze and looked out the win
dow. “It’ll be Christmas soon, Parker. I want this wrapped
up. I need peace this Christmas.”

Parker captured her hand, lifted it and pressed his lips
against her fingers. “Peace sounds good to me, too.”

She didn’t say it; neither did Parker. But it was there be
tween them. The investigation of Linda’s murder had
bought them some time. With Forrester finding the body,
he’d be afraid he was being watched by the police—which
he probably was—and that would keep him from harming
Misty. But they were closing in, and if Forrester realized his
house of cards was collapsing around his upper-crust ears
before
she and Parker found Misty, there was no doubt about what Forrester would do.

Silence the victim.

Chapter 8

“Parker, wake up.” Caron bent over the sofa and
touched his scrunched shoulder.

He opened his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve got to go.” His
hair was mussed, and the curls clung to his scalp. She ran her fingers through them.

He glanced at his black diver’s watch and squinted at its
illuminated dial. “It’s two a.m.,” he groaned. “We just got to sleep.”

The fog lifted, and he sat up straight. “Is it Misty?”

She stepped back. Two hundred and twenty pounds of
muscled man in motion was too much, especially consid
ering what she was about to say. That he wouldn’t like it
was a blatant understatement. “I’ve got to touch the leash.”

His expression flashed from worried to grim. “Caron,
I’m asking you not to do that.”

Asking had been hard for him. She sank her teeth into her lower lip and touched his shoulder. The muscle was
hard-packed, tense. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t
.” God, but this was hard for her to admit, too.
“Because you asked me. But
I was thinking. Someone untied Misty’s ropes and gave her medicine to reduce the fe
ver. If it was Linda, by touching the leash, I might—”

He grabbed Caron’s wrist. “You might go through her death. Have you forgotten what happened? Misty was just
sick. But Linda died, Caron. She
died
.”

Caron wrapped her arms around his head and held him
to her stomach. He was shaking. Or was it her? She couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. They both understood.

After a long moment, he looked up at her. “Caron.”

One word. But the emotion behind it was so forceful, so
strong, that she nearly cried. She bent down and pressed her
lips to his. He dragged her to him, kissing her hard and
deep. She tasted the turmoil inside him, the anger, the rage,
the fear. He plundered her mouth, his hands on her hips
hard and demanding, and she let him.

When he gentled, regaining control, she pressed her forehead to his. “I care about you, Parker. So much. But
I’ll never be able to look myself in the mirror again if I turn
my back on Misty. Can’t you see? If I start running again,
I might never stop.”

“It’s Misty.” His eyes were accusing. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Caron hadn’t wanted to tell him, hadn’t wanted him to feel the gripping fear she felt. But she wouldn’t lie,
not to him. “She’s worse. She’s hallucinating.”

* * *

“The evidence room is locked up tighter than a sealed drum, folks, and it will be until seven a.m.”

Caron leaned against Parker and glared at the portly desk
sergeant. She was so tired her knees were wobbly. “We can’t wait. Please, call Detective Sanders.” She’d asked before and been refused. Maybe this time he’d soften.

“I told you, Jeff’s wife just had a baby about thirty
minutes ago. He’s the only one on watch with a key, and I’m not calling Sanders down here at two-thirty in the morning when I don’t have a key to let him in.” The ser
geant shrugged. “What’s the point?”

Jeff was the guy responsible for evidence. And Parker
knew the sergeant wasn’t going to budge. That Caron
sensed Misty was sicker had Parker worried. That Forres
ter, the redhead—Vanessa?—and Decker were still float
ing around out there, ready, willing and able to harm Misty
had Parker downright scared for the kid. And for Caron. He hadn’t forgotten the message left on her door. Or the
empathy pains. Or the way he’d felt when she told him that
this time she’d die, too.

Sanders
had
to be gut-deep in this or he’d already have
arrested Forrester and Decker. Even if the sergeant called,
Sanders wouldn’t let them into the Evidence Room. He didn’t want Caron to sense anything on this case—or did
he? Maybe that’s why he’d told them...Yes!

Parker grabbed Caron’s arm. “Thanks anyway, Sergeant. We’ll come back at seven.”

Looking immensely relieved, the sergeant nodded, dis
missing them.

Caron looked at Parker as if he’d lost his mind. Before she could protest, he tugged her out of earshot of the ser
geant.

“Parker, what are you doing?”

“Sanders isn’t going to help us, Caron. At least, not
outright. Neither is the sergeant.”

“
Somebody
will. I have to get into that evidence room, Parker. If I can touch the leash, I might sense
where Misty is!”

“I know that. And we’re going to get in, okay? But I
have to tell you something. You were right. Sanders didn’t kill Linda. He told us about the leash because he wanted you to touch it. He
wants
you to find Misty.”

“That’s it!” she shouted in a whisper. “That’s what’s been niggling at me. In all the years we’ve worked to
gether, Sandy’s never revealed classified information.” She
frowned. “But why didn’t he just tell us to come down?”

“That, I don’t know.” But Parker had his suspicions. If
they were right, he knew why Sanders hadn’t arrested
Decker or Forrester. “Lower your voice, and follow me.”

Suspecting what he had in mind, she clasped his arm.
“Parker, we can’t!”

Two uniformed cops walked by and gave Parker and Caron curious looks. On cue, they smiled, and the cops
walked on.

When they were out of sight, Caron fired at Parker again. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Probably.”

“We can’t break into the evidence room!”

“Okay. What’s your plan?”

He knew darn well that she didn’t have one. He’d pulled the same stunt at Meriam’s about the street index. “I don’t
know.”

“There’s no other way to get in there.”

“Right.” She bit down on her lip and grasped a convenient, if feeble, excuse. “I don’t know where it is.”

Parker hiked his brows. “Downstairs, in the basement.”

When she twisted her mouth, Parker pecked a kiss on it.
“I know. Just for the record, you don’t like this any more than you like lying.” He curled her to his side, then turned toward the elevator. “Just for the record, I don’t, either.”

She’d never know just how much he meant those words.
Not telling her what he’d done, not telling her about Harlan and Sarah, was eating holes in his stomach. But if he confessed, he’d lose her. He knew that now as well as he
knew that Misty was in serious trouble. And losing Caron,
he realized, was not something he wanted to do. The knowing stunned him. He stared at her.

“What? Have I sprouted two heads?” Caron reached up and patted her hair. It was a tangled mess, and she half expected Parker to tell her she looked like hell. But he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t say anything. And darned if he didn’t look
as if he
couldn’t
say anything.

A bell sounded, and the elevator doors slid open. Caron
stepped inside. Parker didn’t move. She tugged his sleeve.

When the doors slid closed, she pressed the button. It lit
up, and she looked back at Parker. He was still staring at her as if she were an alien. “What’s the matter with you?”

He stepped closer, until his chest was against her breasts,
and cupped her chin. “I need to do this, Caron. I know my
timing’s rotten, but...I need to...”

His lips brushed ever so lightly over hers, grazed her chin,
then
returned to her mouth. He planted his hands at her
shoulders and let them slide around to her back, then pulled
her into the cradle of his arms. He’d kissed her before, but
not like this. There was a new tenderness in his touch, and there was awe in the gruff groans vibrating in his throat, in the tips of his fingers as they worked the flesh at her side.

He reared back enough to mumble her name, then bore down on her mouth and crushed her lips beneath his. The attack on her senses had her legs going weak and her heart
careening, and every pore in her body seemed to be
stretching toward him, sensually gravitating, wanting to
absorb the feel of him.