Torn (24 page)

“You can profile me, no problem.” Wade jerked his thumb toward Victoria. “What about her? What do you see when you look at her?”

Avid interest filled North's eyes as his stare fixed on Victoria again. She stared back at him, looking nervous.

That look will work to our advantage. Good old Troy, he likes to feel in control.

“Always wanting to prove yourself,” North murmured. “You've been driven by that need your entire adult life, haven't you? No one would believe you when you were younger, so you made sure they
have
to believe you now. You were the best one in your classes, you
are
the best in your field, and it's all about proving your worth. Proving that others can believe you. But deep inside you always think . . . you're still not good enough. Still the young girl who sat on that witness stand, with tears streaming down her cheeks as she swore her father had killed her mother. Only there was no evidence to back up your story. There was just you. And no one believed you.” He leaned forward. “That must have devastated you. I can't imagine what it was like, going back to that house, with
him,
after you'd gone against him like that in court. It must have taken all that you had . . .”

I fucking hate this guy.
It pretty much took all the self-­control Wade had not to jump up and attack him. The shrink was practically salivating over Victoria.
No, over her pain. This freak likes it.

Victoria had paled and her gaze dropped to her lap.
Keep pushing him, baby.
Because if she believed this was their guy, their chance to act was right the hell then.

“I knew living with him wasn't going to be an option,” she said quietly.

“No, it wouldn't be. All that rage he must have felt toward you.” North licked his lips. “Did he threaten to kill you? Because I'm thinking he did. I bet that he said you'd pay for turning on him. After all, you belonged to him, and then you went against him. You would need to be punished and—­”

His stare slid to Wade.

The shrink stopped talking. His body jerked back and he swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Shit. He saw . . .
Wade knew the guy had just realized how much he wanted to rip him apart. So much for keeping his control. Victoria had been the one to play things perfectly but . . .
I can't play when it comes to her. Not anymore. Not even close.

North gave another of his high-­pitched nervous laughs. “How'd I do?” His smile was too big and fake. “Think I'd make it at LOST? Maybe I could work with Dr. Jacobs. I could profile the victims while she took care of the perpetrators.”

Victoria was still looking down at her hands. “I don't think you're right for LOST.”

North's nervous gaze darted to Wade.

Wade gave a slow, negative shake of his head. “Hell, no.” Then he was the one to lean toward the guy. “And you got a few things wrong, just so you know.”

“Wr-­Wrong?”

“Yeah, things aren't always black and white. Right and wrong . . . they can shift. Especially when someone you love is put into the equation.” Wade rose to his feet. He moved to the desk and leaned forward, slapping his hands against the wood as he towered his head over North. “Take me, for example. When I'm pushed far enough, by the wrong bastard, I forget all about what I'm
supposed
to do. And I just act out. I attack.”

North shot to his feet. “I—­”

“Do you do that, Dr. North?” Victoria had risen, too. Behind the lenses of her glasses, her stare seemed so very solemn. “Do you ever just . . . act? Or do you simply stay in the shadows, watching others? Learning their secrets and lies?”

He started to smile. A telling movement . . . one that sent more fury spiraling through Wade. “How about,” Wade snapped, “I tell you what I see . . . when I look at you . . .”

“You're hardly qualified to—­”

“I don't have a wall full of degrees, no. Sure don't. Because I was in the military, then I went straight to the police academy. I spent years tracking criminals, so that hands-­on experience? It sure taught me a few things. First up . . . killers can be arrogant, cocky bastards.”

North's jaw locked. “If you're saying—­”

“I'm saying that they always think they're so much smarter than the cops. And you with all your degrees—­I mean, how many fucking ones are on the wall?—­you must think you're incredibly clever.”

The doctor didn't speak.

“Criminals . . . well, there are certain types. There are those who value control more than they value anything else. They like to be the ones pulling the strings. Dishing out pain. They can't take the pain, you see. Just give it.” His gaze slid over North's bruised features. “I noticed the first day how you freaked the hell out when you got hit. Never been hit before, huh? Bet that was an eye opener. Bet it pissed you off.”

North just stood there. Glaring.

“I bet . . . you wanted payback against the guy who'd dared to hit
you.
And isn't it funny . . . he
was
attacked and had his throat slit open? Now poor Jim is unconscious in a hospital bed, connected to a dozen tubes as he fights for his life.”

“It's not funny,” North said, voice sharp. “It's tragic. For him to lose the woman he loved, then to be in this condition—­”

“
‘The woman he loved'?” Wade pounced. “I thought they were just roommates. Old friends . . .”

“No, it was more. I could tell by the way Melissa talked about him and he—­he was always standing too close to her. Touching her too much. When you're in love with a woman, a man's body language changes.
He
changes. He becomes protective. Possessive. Territorial.” The doctor's lips curved, just the smallest bit. “The way you are with Dr. Palmer here. In so deep that you can't see anything else . . .”

Clever bastard.
And Wade knew this prick wasn't going to screw up, there wouldn't be any rushed confession from him. Victoria had been hoping for just that—­Wade knew it, but North was slick.

And I'm also thinking she's right . . . he could be the bastard we are looking for.

“I have classes, so I really must be going,” he said, giving a curt nod. “Though if you want to schedule an appointment later to talk more, I can certainly do that.”

“No.” Wade's voice was flat. “We're leaving town. Another appointment won't be possible for us.”

Alarm flared in North's eyes. “But . . . but the killer is still loose.”

Now isn't this interesting . . .

“As I've been told . . . our job isn't to catch killers,” Victoria said, all emotion gone from her voice. “We help victims. They're the ones that matter.”

Keep talking, baby. Because the shrink is looking confused now. Huh. Guess he didn't see this shit coming.
What had the guy thought? That Victoria would hang around forever?

Victoria gave a brisk nod. “Good day, Doctor—­”

“What if others are taken? How can you just leave, knowing he's still out there?” North's eyes had narrowed on her. “
You
can't. You have to want to find him. Because he's just like your father, isn't he? Still loose, still capable of hurting someone else. Unless you stop him. Unless you step in—­” He broke off. Shook his head. “Your job isn't done here, and you know it.”

And you just convinced me you were the fucker calling Victoria, because you know what she did.
“We aren't cops,” Wade said. “Detective Black will find this guy.” He caught Victoria's arm in his hand and steered her toward the door.
Make him follow us, baby. Make him.

“Before or after another woman is taken?” There was a shrill edge in North's voice. “How can you risk that? I thought you—­you would keep looking.
You
would understand.”

Wade and Victoria were at the office door.

“I understand plenty,” Victoria said. She looked over her shoulder at North. “Just how long have you known what I did?”

Wade glanced back, too. He saw the shrink's lips part on a quick, sharp breath. He also saw the flash of victory in the man's eyes. Sick fuck—­the guy thought this was all some kind of game. It wasn't. Not even close.

But he won't confess. We need proof. Fucking proof. Detective Black can't get a search warrant on this guy because we don't have enough evidence to sway a judge. Right now, we've got our gut instinct—­and the knowledge that this prick knows Victoria killed her father.

They sure as shit couldn't go to the cops with that.

And he realizes it.

Wade jerked the door open. He wanted Victoria away from Troy North. He wanted her
out
—­

Someone was at the reception desk. Melissa's desk. A man sat there, his dark head bent forward, his shoulders slumped. He looked up, very slowly, and Wade saw that the guy's hands weren't empty.

Matthew Walker sat in Melissa's chair, and he had a gun in his hands. A gun that he lifted and pointed—­right at Wade and Victoria.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

V
ICTORIA SAW THE
gun, dark and deadly, in Matthew's hands. His fingers were shaking that gun as he lifted it.

And pointed it at her.

Wade jumped in front of Victoria, shielding her. Her hands grabbed his back because she wanted to shove him out of the way. He couldn't do this. He couldn't risk his life for her.

But he was an unmovable block before her. His hands were fisted at his sides and his attention seemed totally on the man with the gun.

A man the police had released hours before . . .

“Wh-­What's happening?” Troy demanded. Victoria heard the fast scuttle of his footsteps. He wouldn't be able to see Matthew, not with Wade blocking the door.

He can't do this! He can't risk himself this way!

But he was.

“I . . . cared about her.” Matthew's gruff voice drifted toward them.

Behind her, Victoria heard Troy's shocked gasp.

“She shouldn't have been killed. Too fast. Too quick. That wasn't the way.” Matthew sounded a bit lost. “That wasn't the way it should happen. You don't . . . you don't learn anything that way.”

“Put the gun down,” Wade said, his voice calm. Almost easy. “Put it down, and we'll all talk.”

Troy's fingers closed over Victoria's shoulders. They tightened, digging into her skin. “What is he doing?” His words were a hiss in her ears.

“That's all that asshole in there ever does,” Matthew called out. “Talk and talk and talk. He thinks he's so fucking smart. Like he's the only one who can get a degree.”

Wade's shoulders were tense before Victoria. She could practically feel him gathering his energy for an attack. Then she heard . . .

The squeak of a chair. Wheels, rolling back. She knew Matthew had stood up.

“I'm pretty smart, too,” Matthew said. “So I figured things out. You're here, that means you figured them out, too, huh? You know what I know . . . that the bastard behind you, he killed Melissa.”

At those words, Troy jerked Victoria back against him. His arms wrapped around her and he held her so tightly she could barely breathe. She gave a short, involuntary cry at his movement, and Wade whipped around toward her. He took one look at her, trapped in Troy's arms, and his face—­

It iced.

All emotion vanished. His eyes even seemed to go dead.

That's not Wade.

She wondered just what he was preparing to do.

“What's happening here?” Troy demanded as he stumbled back, pulling her with him. “What is going on?”

“Let her go,” Wade said flatly.

And then . . . then she saw Matthew closing from behind on Wade.

“No!” Victoria yelled. “Stop!”

Wade swung back around. He struck out with hard, vicious force. He slammed his fist into Matthew's jaw, and in the next second Wade's other hand flew out and chopped Matthew's wrist. The gun fell from Matthew's fingers as he cried out and stumbled back.

Wade grabbed the gun in an instant. He brought it up and aimed it right at Troy. “Don't even
think
of moving again!”

Matthew was on his hands and knees. He'd tried to scramble for the gun. He'd missed it, by inches.

“Not me!” Troy yelled. “I didn't kill Melissa! It was him!
Him! Shoot him!
” Troy had one arm around Victoria's neck. The other was around her waist. Was he trying to use her as a human shield or—­

“
Don't listen to North!
Shoot him!
” Matthew yelled as he lunged to his feet. “He's the killer! He's going to kill
her
!”

“Let me go,” Victoria said at the same time, her voice low and hard. “Wade has the gun.
Let me go.
” They all needed to calm the hell down. Fast. Before this scene went too far.

But Troy didn't let her go. He took another step back, pulling her with him. He seemed to be pulling her toward his desk.

“Walker, stay the hell back,” Wade snapped out. “Get your ass under control!”

“It has to be him!” Matthew yelled right back. “He knew—­he knew how I felt about her! He saw us ­together—­I picked her up for lunch one day,
right here.
I kissed her and he opened the door. Freaking smug bastard . . . smiling the whole time! He took Melissa! He wanted her and he took her!”

Troy wasn't saying anything. But . . . he took his arm away from her neck. He was just holding Victoria now by the waist. His grip was so tight.

“Victoria.” Wade's voice was clear in the storm around them. “It's okay.”

How was this okay?

“Let her go, Dr. North.
Now.
” Wade was advancing on her and Troy. One step. Another.

And Troy was—­reaching for his desk. For the top drawer. He could almost touch it.

What was in the drawer?

“He won't do this to me,” Troy said, his words a frantic whisper. “I won't let him. I won't let him!”

Matthew was inching toward Wade once again.

Wade—­with Matthew at his back and Troy in front of him. His attention was too divided. This couldn't work. Wade was too focused on her. Helping
her.

When danger was all around him . . .

“No,” Victoria said, voice fierce. “Stop him, Wade! Behind you.
Stop him.
”

Wade whirled. Matthew had grabbed a letter opener off Melissa's desk. He was screaming and rushing forward.

Wade fired the gun. The boom of the shot seemed deafening, and Victoria felt Troy jerk behind her. She seized that moment. He was so intent on the drawer—­so shocked by the thundering gunfire—­she drove her elbow back into his side as hard as she could.

He let her go. She lunged forward, her momentum sending her falling to the floor as she stumbled.

“Drop it!”
Wade roared.

She looked back.

Troy had fully opened the desk drawer. And he'd taken out the weapon inside. A gun. One that he now held with shaking fingers.

“Have to protect . . .” Troy muttered. “Won't let him do this . . .
I won't!
”

And Matthew was still on his feet, just a small distance away. His shoulder was bleeding and the letter opener had fallen from his fingers.

She glanced back and forth between Matthew and Troy, her eyes wide.

“Put it down,” Wade ordered.

Matthew smiled.
Smiled
as he stared down Troy's gun barrel.

Then, with no weapon in his hand, with blood pouring from his shoulder wound, Matthew surged into Troy's office.

“Victoria, stay down!”
Wade roared.

Troy fired.

So did Wade.

The blasts happened so close together—­the retort just seemed like one big explosion.

Her ears rang and she shook her head. She crawled back—­

Wade grabbed her hand. He pulled her up, holding her close to his side. His right hand still gripped the gun. A gun that was trained on Troy.

Troy was on his feet, but blood bloomed on his chest. The gun trembled in his hand and he seemed to be struggling to raise the weapon once more.

“Drop it,” Wade ordered. “Drop the damn thing
now
!”

“Shoot him!” Matthew yelled at the same instant. “He's crazy! He'll kill us all—­
shoot him
!”

Troy's gaze jerked to Matthew. Rage and pain burned in his eyes, and he swung the weapon toward Matthew. Victoria had no doubt in her mind . . . he was going to kill Matthew Walker.

“Drop it!” Wade roared again. He hadn't shot to kill before. Victoria knew he was a good marksman. If he wanted Troy stopped . . .

Troy smiled as he lifted his gun.

“Shoot him!”
Matthew screamed. “Help me,
help—­
”

Troy's shaking fingers were tightening around the trigger.

But Wade fired before the psychology professor could. The bullet blasted right into Troy's chest this time. He stumbled back, ramming into the wall. His hand seemed to spasm around the gun and the bullet erupted, flying through the air to slam into the wall inches from Matthew's head.

Troy dropped the gun. He fell to the floor.

Wade had a death grip on Victoria.

She was pretty sure Matthew was crying from his perch on the ground.

“Why the hell . . .” Matthew whimpered as he clutched his shoulder. “. . . did you shoot . . .
me
? He was the one . . . wanted people . . . dead.”

Troy was gasping and shuddering. Victoria tried to pull free in order to check on him, but Wade's grip was unbreakable.

She stared up at him, and the fury in his eyes—­it stole her breath.

“He had you,” Wade whispered. “The sonofabitch had you.”

Footsteps thundered out in the reception area and uniformed security guards stumbled inside. Victoria recognized those men. They were the same men Troy North had called the very first time she and Wade had come to his office . . . when Jim had attacked him.

Now they stood there, faces slack with shock, as they stared at the brutal scene in front of them.

Two men shot. One man still armed.

So much blood.

The security guards grabbed for the Tasers on their belts as they stared at Wade with rising horror.

“Easy.” Wade put the gun down. “Call the cops, right the hell now. Get Detective Black here. This isn't what it looks like . . .”

“You shot two men!” the red-­haired guard shouted. He appeared to be about two seconds away from Tasering Wade.

“It's not even my weapon. Dr. Walker came to the scene with the gun.” Wade had his hands up. “I can explain it all, but first . . .
get the cops. Get an ambulance.
Because I think Dr. North is dying.”

That last shot—­Victoria knew there had been no choice. He'd had to shoot . . . to kill.

The older guard grabbed for his radio.

“Get me help,” Matthew gasped out. “I need . . . help, too. And . . . North . . . Troy North . . .
he's crazy . . .
make sure he's . . . down . . .”

The red-­haired guard gulped and glanced over at Troy. Then he made sure to kick Troy's gun farther away. “He's still alive,” the guard said. “But he's bad.” He looked green as he muttered, “That blood is pumping out of him so hard.”

Victoria could taste the bitterness of fear on her tongue. Troy had been holding her, grabbing for that gun in his desk, and she
knew
he'd been ready to shoot Matthew.

And Wade?

But now Troy North was lying in a pool of his own blood. A big, growing pool. Troy was bleeding from his shoulder, and it looked as if another bullet had grazed his side.

“I'm a doctor,” she whispered. “Please, let me try to help.” Because she couldn't just stand there and watch him die. It just . . .
I can't.

The older guard had knelt next to Troy.

The red-­haired guard kept his Taser up and his wary gaze on Wade, but he motioned for Victoria to go ahead.

“Be careful,” Wade told her. “Even a dying man can try taking you to hell with him.”

She swallowed at that stark warning, fear heavy in her gut. But when she knelt next to Troy, his eyes—­so wild and desperate—­locked onto hers with a frantic intensity.

“D-­Don't . . .” He rasped.

“I'm just checking your wounds.” And they were bad. So bad. She put her hands on his chest, and his blood soaked her fingers as she tried to staunch that wild flow. Victoria was very afraid that Wade's bullet had come too close to Troy's heart.

He'd had to stop Troy.

And he had.

She put more pressure on his wound, trying to help, but—­

It's too late. I can see it now.
His breath was too ragged, his skin color already changing. His pupils were pinpricks as he stared up at her.

“
Don't . . . t-­trust . . .”

She had to lean closer in order to hear him. “Who? Who shouldn't I trust?”

Troy's gaze darted over her shoulder. His lips parted.

But he didn't say anything else. He couldn't.

He was gone.

She tried to bring him back, pumping on his heart, desperate because she didn't want him dying there, not like that—­not even with the horrible things he'd done.

I don't want to be anyone's judge and jury. Not ever again. I can't be.

But . . . but there was nothing. No hope. His body was limp beneath her hands. She tried and tried—­and she was still trying when the EMTs rushed into the office.

They pulled her back, but she knelt there, body slumped, chilled, as they checked him—­and shook their heads.

Gone.

And his words kept replaying in her mind. A record that wouldn't end.
Don't . . . t-­trust . . .
She glanced over her shoulder. Wade stared back at her, his ­expression carved from stone. Beside him, another EMT was trying to patch up Matthew Walker.

“It was him,” Matthew murmured. “All along . . .
it was him.
”

A shiver slid over her, and she wished that she'd been able to make a dead man talk, just a little bit longer.

T
HE AMBULANCE PULLED
away from the scene, its lights blazing. Matthew Walker was in that vehicle, strapped down on a stretcher. He'd live. And he'd have plenty to talk about with the cops . . .

The crazy bastard brought a gun onto a college campus.
Wade still couldn't quite wrap his mind around that shit. The computer professor had sent the whole scene crashing straight to hell.

But Walker hadn't been the only one there with a gun . . .