Page 7 of Heartbreaker (Buchanan-Renard 1)

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “And maybe not. He could just be getting started. The profilers will know more after they’ve heard the tape. They’ll have some insight.”

  “But what do you think?”

  “There’s a hell of a lot of inconsistencies here.”

  “Such as?”

  He shrugged. “For one thing, he told Tommy he did the other woman a year ago, but I think he was lying about that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he also said he’s gotten a real taste for it,” he reminded her. “The one statement conflicts with the other.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If he got off on it—torturing and killing the woman—then he did her recently and not a year ago. He wouldn’t have been able to wait that long.”

  “Nick, what about the letter he said he sent to the police?”

  “If he wrote it, and if he mailed it, then they’ll get it tomorrow or the day after. They’re ready,” he added. “And they’ll run it for prints, but I doubt he left any.”

  “I don’t suppose they found any prints on the cassette, did they?”

  “Actually, there was one, but it wasn’t our man’s. The kid who checked him out at Super Sid’s Warehouse had a record, so his prints were on file. It was easy to track him to the warehouse,” he explained. “His probation officer helped him get the job.”

  “Did he remember who bought the tape?”

  “Unfortunately, he didn’t,” he answered. “Have you ever been to one of those stores? The traffic going through there is unbelievable, and it was a cash-only counter, so there wasn’t any credit card receipt or check to trace.”

  “What about the confessional? Did they find any prints there?”

  “Yeah, hundreds.”

  “But you don’t think any of them are his?”

  “No, I don’t,” he replied.

  “He’s very smart, isn’t he?”

  “They’re never as smart as they think they are. Besides . . .”

  “What?”

  “We’re going to be smarter.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Nick radiated confidence, and it suddenly dawned on Laurant that he probably had been trained to present a calm demeanor so that witnesses and victims wouldn’t panic.

  “Does anything ever rile you?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “You’re sure the man on the tape is serious, aren’t you?”

  “Laurant, no matter how many times you ask me the question, the answer’s going to be the same. Yes, I think he’s serious,” he patiently repeated. “He’s gone to a lot of trouble researching you and Tommy and me. Like I said before, his intent was to scare your brother, and he sure as hell succeeded. Tommy’s convinced this guy’s crazy, but I’ve got this feeling that most of what he said was carefully rehearsed. Now we have to figure out his real agenda.”

  She could feel her control slipping and clinched her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Did you hear what he did to that woman? How he tortured her? Did you . . .”

  He took hold of her hand and squeezed. “Laurant, take a deep breath. All right?”

  She did as he suggested, but it didn’t help. The impact of what she had heard was finally hitting her full force. Chilled to the bone, she pulled her hand away and began to rub her arms.

  She was covered with goose bumps and was visibly shivering. Nick grabbed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “Better?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  He had the sudden urge to put his arm around her and comfort her just like he would one of his own sisters if she were scared, but he didn’t know how Laurant would react, and so he stayed where he was and waited for her to give him some sort of signal.

  She pulled the jacket tight around her with a death grip on the lapels.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “About an hour.”

  Both of them fell silent, and for several minutes the only sounds were the ticking of the clock above the kitchen sink and Tommy’s muffled voice from the living room. Nick noticed she hadn’t touched her tea. Then Laurant looked up at him, and he saw the tears in her eyes.

  “Are you feeling overwhelmed?” he asked.

  She brushed a tear away and answered, “I was thinking about that woman . . . Millie . . . and what he did to her . . .”

  The tea was cold, and she decided to make another cup. Then she decided to fix a cup for Nick too. The chore kept her busy and gave her a moment to try to get a grip on her emotions.

  Nick watched her work and thanked her when she put the unwanted tea in front of him. Waiting until she sat down again, he said, “I was wondering how you’re going to hold up.”

  “You’re hoping I’m tougher than I look?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Exactly what is it you do for the FBI?”

  “I work for the lost-and-found department.”

  “What is it you find?”

  “When I’m lucky?”

  “Yes, when you’re lucky.”

  He leaned over to hit the rewind button and then glanced back at her. “Kids. I find kids.”

  His eyes were the most intense shade of blue, and when he looked at her directly, she felt as though he were trying to see inside her mind. She wondered if he were analyzing her every move as though she were a chess piece. Was he trying to find her vulnerability?

  “It’s specialized work,” he commented, hoping that would put an end to the discussion about his job.

  “I’m sorry we had to meet this way . . . under these circumstances.”

  “Yeah, well . . .”

  “Look how I’m shaking,” she said as she put her hand out for him to see. “I’m so angry I want to scream.”

  “Then do it.”

  The suggestion brought her up short. “What?”

  “Scream,” he said.

  She actually smiled, so silly was the notion. “Monsignor would have heart failure, and so would my brother.”

  “Look, just take a few minutes and try to chill out.”

  “How do you propose I do that?”

  “Let’s talk about something else, just for a little while . . . until Tommy comes back.”

  “I can’t think about anything else right now.”

  “Sure you can,” he advised. “Try, Laurant. It might help calm you down.”

  She reluctantly agreed. “What should we talk about?”

  “You,” he decided.

  She shook her head, but he ignored it and continued on, “It’s odd, don’t you think, that we’ve never met before today?”

  “Yes, it is odd,” she agreed. “You’ve been my brother’s closest friend since you were little boys, and he lived with your family all those years, yet I don’t know much about you at all. Tommy came home for summer vacation, and you were always invited to come too, but you never did. Something always came up.”

  “My parents went over once,” he said.

  “Yes, they did. Your mother brought family photos with her, and there is one of you . . . actually it’s the entire family . . . and Tommy . . . standing in front of a fireplace at Christmas. Would you like to see it?”

  “You’ve got it with you?”

  She didn’t have any idea how telling it was that she carried the photo with her. He watched her dig her billfold out of her purse. She’d put the picture in one of the plastic covers that came with all the billfolds, and when she handed it to him, he noticed her hand wasn’t trembling anymore.

  He looked at the photo of the eight Buchanan kids clustered around their proud parents. Tommy was there too, squeezed in between Nick’s brothers Alec and Mike. His brother Dylan was sporting a black eye. Nick figured he’d probably given it to him during one of their family football games.

  “Your mother helped me learn all the names,” she said. “You’re a little blurry though, and Theo’s elbow is blocking half your face. No wonder I didn

’t recognize you today.”

  He handed the billfold back to her, and as she was putting it away, he said, “I know a lot about you. Tommy had pictures up on the wall, the ones the nuns sent of you when you were little.”

  “I was very homely.”

  “Yeah, you were,” he teased. “All legs. Tommy would read me some of your letters too. It used to tear him up that he couldn’t bring you over to live with him. He felt so guilty. He had a family, and you didn’t.”

  “I did all right. I spent my summer vacations with Grandfather, and the boarding school was really very nice.”

  “You didn’t know any other way of life.”

  “I was happy,” she insisted.

  “But weren’t you lonely?”

  She shrugged. “A little,” she admitted. “After Grandfather died.”

  “Are you comfortable with me?”

  The question jarred her. “Yes, why?”

  “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and it’s important that you feel you can relax around me.”

  “How much time will we be spending together?”

  “Every minute of every day and night until this is over. It’s the only way, Laurant.” Without pausing to give her time to absorb that bit of news, Nick commented, “Your brother went crazy when he found out you were modeling.”

  She smiled again. “Yes, he did get a little crazy. That episode merited a long-distance call to the Mother Superior. I couldn’t believe my own brother would tell on me.”

  “The Mother Superior . . . her name was Mother Madelyne, wasn’t it?”

  His memory was impressive. “Yes,” she answered. “After Tommy told on me, Mother called the people I was supposed to be visiting during the summer break. They were very wealthy, and I had met an Italian designer through them.”

  “He took one look at you and wanted you, right?”

  “He wanted me to model his spring fashions,” she corrected. “And I was in several shows.”

  “Until Mother Madelyne dragged you back to the convent.”

  “It was mortifying,” she admitted. “I was put on probation, which meant pots and pans for six months. Overnight, I went from glitz to dishwater hands. Do we spend every minute together, Nick?”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “When you brush your teeth, I’ll squeeze the toothpaste.”

  Once again he switched back to the topic of her past. “Eleven months later you were on the cover of one of those fashion magazines, and when Tommy showed it to me, I couldn’t believe it was the same scrawny little kid with skinned knees.”

  He was giving her a compliment, but she didn’t know how to respond, and so she said nothing at all.

  “You and I are going to be inseparable,” he said.

  “Do you mean that first thing in the morning you’ll be standing on my doorstep before I’ve even gotten dressed for the day?”

  “No, that isn’t what I mean. I’ll be getting dressed with you. What side of the bed do you sleep on?”

  “I beg your pardon?” He repeated the question.

  “The right side.”

  “Then I’m on the left.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “About the bed? Yeah, I am. But I’m going to do whatever is necessary to keep you safe. I’m going to blatantly invade your privacy, and you’re going to let me.”

  “For how long?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “What happens when I take a shower?”

  “I’ll hand you the soap.”

  “Now I know you’re joking.”

  “Laurant, I’m going to be close enough to scrub your back. That’s just the way it has to be. You need to understand that I’m going to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you look at before you close your eyes at night. You and I are in this together.”

  “But if you’re spending all your time with me, how are you going to catch him?”

  “I work for a powerful organization, Laurant, remember? They’re already investigating. Leave it to us to catch him. It’s what we’re trained to do.”

  She rested her chin in the palm of her hand. She didn’t say a word for a long minute, and then she straightened up again and looked him right in the eyes.

  “I won’t let him scare me. I want to help. I promise I won’t do anything stupid,” she hastened to add. “No, I’m not scared now. Just angry. Furious, in fact, but not scared.”

  “You should be scared. Fear will keep you coiled, focused, on your toes.”

  “But it can also paralyze, and I won’t let it paralyze me,” she assured him. “This man . . . this monster,” she corrected, “tells my brother how much fun he had torturing and killing a poor, innocent woman, and then he tells him the craving’s come back and that he’s chosen me for his next amusement. He’s so clever, he knows Tommy wants to see his face, so he waits for him to come outside the confessional and then he hits him on the back of the head. He could have killed him.”

  “He didn’t want to kill him or he would have,” Nick said quietly. “He’s using Tommy as his messenger now.” He saw the look that crossed her face and immediately sought to reassure her. “Don’t worry about your brother. We’re going to keep him safe too.”

  “Night and day,” she demanded.

  “Of course,” he agreed.

  She nodded. “Doesn’t it seem to you that this man is calling all the shots now? He tells Tommy to notify you and make you take me away and then maybe he won’t follow. And my brother wants to do just that. Hide me.”

  “Of course he wants to hide you. He loves you and he doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “I know,” she said. “And I would probably react the very same way.”

  “But?”

  “I know my brother, and right now he’s in agony worrying about something else that man said to him in the confessional that neither you nor Tommy has mentioned in front of me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He told Tommy he would try to find someone else to amuse himself with.” Her voice shook as she continued. “For whatever reason, he decided to warn me so I could get away, but this other woman won’t have any warning, will she?”

  “No, she probably won’t,” he agreed. “But you’ve got to—”

  She interrupted him. “Running away isn’t an option. I’m not going to give anyone that kind of power over me. I won’t be scared.”

  “I think we should discuss this later, after Pete’s had time to go over the tape with the profiler.”

  Nick tried to get up from the table, but Laurant grabbed hold of his hand. She didn’t want to wait. “I know that you must have some theories. I want to hear them. I need information, Nick. I don’t want to feel powerless, and right this minute that’s exactly how I feel.”

  His eyes bored into hers for several seconds before he made up his mind. Then he nodded. “All right, I’ll tell you what we know. To begin with, my superior, Dr. Peter Morganstern, already has listened to a copy of the tape. He’s a psychiatrist who heads my department and he’s the best there is. If anyone can get into this creep’s mind, he can. Just remember, Pete hasn’t had time to sit down and analyze every word.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good. First, let’s talk facts. The most important fact is that this wasn’t random. You were specifically chosen.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “We know he chose you because he’s . . . dedicated . . . to you,” he said, searching for the right word.

  “What does that mean?” she asked impatiently.

  “It means you’ve got a fan. It’s what we call them . . . fans.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m not a movie star or a celebrity. I’m just an average person.”

  “Look in the mirror, Laurant. There isn’t anything average about you. You’re beautiful. He thinks you’re beautiful.” He hurried on before she could interrupt. “And most victi

ms these guys select aren’t high profile.”

  She took a breath and then said, “Go on. I need to know exactly what I’m up against. You aren’t scaring me,” she added so he wouldn’t continue to choose his words so carefully. “I want to know everything so I can fight back, and by God, I am going to fight back.”

  “Okay, here’s what he’s telling us. He’s been stalking you for a long time now. He knows everything about you. Everything. He knows what kind of perfume you wear, what your favorite foods are, what kind of detergent you use in your laundry, what books you read, what your sex life is like, what you do every minute of every day. He wants us to know that he’s been inside your house at least a couple of times, but probably more. He sat in your chairs, he ate your food, and he went through your drawers. It’s his way of getting to know you,” he explained. “He’s probably taken something from your underwear drawer to keep, something you wouldn’t miss right away. Think about it, and you’ll remember some old nightgown or T-shirt that you haven’t been able to find lately. The garment has to be something you wear close to your skin.”

  “Why?” she asked, shaken by Nick’s description of the man he called a fan. She didn’t want to believe that anyone had gone through her house uninvited and searched through her things, and the thought that she was being watched made her skin crawl.

  “It has to have your scent on it,” he explained. “It makes him feel closer to you. Whatever it is, he’s sleeping with it,” he added, remembering the man’s words about wrapping himself in her fragrance.

  “Anything else?” she asked, surprised at how normal she sounded.

  “Yeah,” he said. “He’s watched you sleep.”

  “No, I would have known,” she cried out.

  He tapped the cassette player. “It’s all there.”

  “What if I had opened my eyes . . . what if I woke up and saw him?”

  “That’s what he wants you to do,” he said. “But not yet. He’d be upset if you forced him to hurt you now.”

  “Why?”

  “You’d be speeding up his agenda.”

  “Go on. I’m not scared,” she reiterated.

  “What I just told you . . . that’s what he wants us to know. Here’s what we’re theorizing at this point. He lives in Holy Oaks, and he’s someone you come into contact with all the time, maybe even on a daily basis. You’re friendly with him, but like I said before, he’s reading all sorts of other messages. Pete says he’s in the adoration stage. That means he thinks you’re pretty damned perfect, and he wants to protect you. The guy’s obsessing now, and he’s clearly at war with himself. He wants us to believe he is anyway. He might genuinely like you, Laurant, and in that case he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he knows he’s going to because no matter what you do, you’re going to disappoint him. In his mind, there’s no way you can live up to his expectations—he’ll make sure of that—and there’s no way you can win.”