Laudan Adelle

Killer Scents

Killer

Scents

Adelle Laudan

Dedicated to…

All of the lovely people

In the 30’s Room

I’ve come to cherish as friends.

You know who you are…

KILLER SCENTS

~Mykaela Baxter

Copyright©2012

KILLER SCENTS

Chapter One

Silence.

Not even the rustle of leaves intruded on the sinister concerto playing over and over in his mind. Only one obstacle stood in the way of his cleverly orchestrated plan: a rather intrusive beagle that barked at everything and anything. He’d come too far to have a four-legged shit machine jeopardize it all.

It was much easier than he imagined. The stupid mutt didn’t hesitate to snatch the strip of beef jerky he held between the fence boards. It took less than a minute before Shithead lay on the ground, frothing at the mouth while a lethal dose of pesticides shut his yap for good.

His owner’s reaction had been an added bonus. An hour or so later, the kid, no more than twelve years old, kicked a can up the road toward the house. Several minutes after the boy disappeared inside, ear-splitting cries filled the cul-de-sac.

Too bad I don’t have any more of that jerky. I’d shut the kid up, too.

He diverted his attention to the familiar whine of his next victim’s relic Pinto  rounding the corner. Sandra Bedows parked out front of her tidy bungalow and opened the door. She shifted her massive belly to the side, extracting herself from behind the steering wheel and then lumbered up the pathway to her house. The swish of her overstuffed polyester pants rubbing together kept perfect rhythm with her labored breaths.

The acrid stench of her sweat assaulted him as she passed the cluster of bushes he hid behind. It took every ounce of restraint not to jump out and put a gun to her head while she unlocked the door.

Obscured in the shadows of the house, he opened a leather-bound journal to the bookmarked page, and then followed the neatly written lines with his finger to the bottom where he paused.

Happy with the way the room looked for her co-worker’s celebration, I slipped away to freshen up. I wasn’t gone ten minutes and returned to find Sandra Bedows cramming the last corner of my beautiful cake in her mouth.

The woman offered no apology, and when I asked her to leave, she charged and pinned me to the wall with her mounds of fat. Luckily, the first of my guests arrived and were able to talk her down and convince her to leave.

Do I have to worry about her coming after me again? If she does, surely I’m as good as dead...

With a definitive nod, he tucked the book safely away and straightened his stance. He then shrugged the thick strap from his shoulder to gain access to a long, black, cylindrical case carried on his back. He pulled out a most exquisite fuchsia azalea protected by a sleeve of heavy Cellophane.

He drew a deep breath and then let it out slowly.

Calm down. You’ve been over this a hundred times. Stick to the plan and nothing can go wrong.

A quick look up and down the street assured him he was safe to step out of the shadows. He quickly rounded the corner of the house and knocked on her front door.

Ready or not...it’s time to die.

The curtain moved aside enough to garner eye contact, and he forced a smile. The lock clicked, and the door opened a crack.

“Can I help you?”

Her bright-eyed gaze settled on the flower presented to her.

“Delivery for a Ms. Sandra Bedows. You’ll need to sign for it, ma’am.” He bedazzled her with a smile, all the while gritting his teeth.

Her cheeks stained pink. She fluttered her eyelashes. “For me? I can’t imagine who it’s from.”

Just open the door, you fat piece of shit.

His heart beat so loudly he feared she’d hear it and grow suspicious.

Sandra stepped out from behind the door, now wearing some kind of long dress. No, it was a tent decorated with big yellow and red flowers.

“Where do I sign?”

He dipped his hand into his bag and closed his fingers around the cool metal of his 9mm pistol. Without warning, he pushed his way inside and kicked the door closed behind him.

Sandra stood frozen, her gaze trained on his gun.

“Do exactly what I say and things will go much easier for you.”  He pressed the muzzle to her sweaty temple. “Trust me, you don’t want to piss me off.”

Her knees buckled and she dropped. The woman hit the floral-patterned carpetand grabbed hold of his pant leg, tears streaming down her flushed face unchecked. “Please...take anything you want. Oh, God! I beg of you...don’t rape me!”

An involuntary shudder travelled through his body at the mere suggestion, prompting him to take out a roll of duct tape, rip off a piece, and pull it taut over her mouth.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’ll get exactly what you deserve and it has nothing to do with me trying to find your twat.”

Sandra fell back in a big puddle of fat. Repulsed, he took rope out of his bag and nudged her with the toe of his boot. “On your feet!”

It took a couple of attempts for her to stand. Once she did, he backed her up against the sofa. “Lay down on your back.”

Every movement took monumental effort until she sat at the edge of a well-worn sofa, pleading with tear-filled eyes, her mousy-brown hair plastered to the sides of her face. His patience grew thin and he forcefully persuaded her to stretch out on her back. Her flab melded with the tired checked pattern of the couch, making him gag.

With no regard for the pain he was causing, he tied her ankles as close together as her tree-trunk legs would allow. Folds of skin pooled at her swollen, purple feet, and he swallowed back the bitter taste in his mouth, quickly manoeuvring her fat and tied her wrists together over her.

It took a few seconds to calm down and wipe the sweat from his forehead. He stretched to his full height and perused the room, noticing most of the faded, baby-shit brown curtains were drawn.

Probably so she can stuff her face in peace.

The corners of his mouth twitched as he took a plastic container from his bag and lifted the lid with an air of drama. “I brought you something.” He took out half a cake with candles on it.

“I don’t understand.”

“Do you remember eating a cake just like this?”

Her head shook from side to side vigorously. As he tore the tape from her mouth, a pain-filled shriek rippled through the house.

“Oh, God, please... Why are you doing this to me?” Spittle and snot covered her mouth and chin.

“Think about it really hard. It will come to you.” He didn’t wait for a response before forcing her mouth open and cramming the cake into it. She tried to turn her head to the side but was no match for him.

“Do you remember now?”

Her mouth was so full of cake it muffled the sound of her coughing and sputtering. Her eyes bulged.

“Why did you have to eat the whole cake? You fucking cow.”

He briefly closed his eyes to rein in his anger. He then took a deep, cleansing breath before fishing a needle, one used by veterinarians to stitch through the thick hide of animals, from his bag. Heavy weight fishing line settled against his pant leg as he rested the needle on his knee to don surgical gloves and a mask. He picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned up the volume before setting it back beside a container of moist towelettes.

Snot bubbled from his captive’s nose, and her pupils dilated while she struggled to remain conscious.

Oblivious to anything else, he tore off another length of tape with his teeth and ran it across her hairline, securing it to the back of the couch and the edge of the coffee table to keep her from moving her head.

He wanted her eyes to remain open, but kept his own line of vision on the task before him. After a deep, steadying breath, he pierced the center of her bottom lip, completely pulling the line through before repeating the action to her top lip. She grew rigid and tried in vain to escape, her screams muted by the cake in her mouth. Once her lips were secured together, he proceeded to sew her entire mouth shut. He took a few of the wipes and cleaned the blood from her face before replacing the soiled gloves with a fresh pair. He then meticulously cleaned every surface he’d touched.

Barely lucid, Sandra stopped fighting him long ago. Big crocodile tears rolled from the corners of her eyes into her hairline.

“Don’t worry, it’s almost over.”

He checked his pistol one last time and stepped forward, standing on the arm of the sofa by her feet. Her eyes grew big, terror dancing behind dilated pupils. In a final attempt, she struggled against her bindings.

Calmly, he took aim and pulled the trigger. Her body bucked once before settling in a pool of fat. The putrid stench of feces wafted up from under her. He felt no remorse ripping the tape from her head, uncovering a perfect hole in the center of her forehead. Her position allowed for very little spillage. He wiped around the hole and stood back to admire his handiwork.

Perfect.

Satisfied, he gathered his dirty cloths and gloves, along with the needle and tape before taking the azalea out of its protective sleeve and pushing the stem through her clasped hands.

At the door, he paused to give the room a final once over. If anyone were to look through the window he doubted they’d find anything amiss at first glance. There were no blood-spattered walls or signs of struggle. Sandra Bedows appeared to be sleeping peacefully on the couch until one looked a little closer to find a bright pink azalea in her hands and her mouth sewn shut. The gunshot seriously looked like someone had taken a marker and drew a perfect hole between her eyes.

Feeling very smug, he slowly turned the door handle. Just like he’d planned, the sun had begun its decent, offering him a veil of darkness to escape undetected. He looked up and down the street, waiting a few seconds for a car to pass before rounding the corner of the house and slipping away into the night.

Chapter Two

“You do realize not everyone is like your former patients passing through life on drugs and shock therapy?”

“Of course.” Susan rubbed her ever-present hanky over the glass tabletop, a gesture she’d done since they’d sat for tea.

Becca loved her sister’s best friend, but it became more and more difficult for them to have a pleasant visit. Her paranoia and OCD about having a clean home consumed her.

“Do you know what you need?” Susan asked.

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“When’s the last time you had a man in your bed?”

“You don’t really think I’m going to answer that question, do you?” Heat flooded Becca’s face. “Besides, I could ask you the same thing.”

“Oh my, are you blushing? Come on. Out with it. You might as well tell me, because you know I won’t stop bugging you until you do.”

“It’s no big deal. After Jack’s funeral, I went to the bar and had a few too many margaritas. Then in walks one super-hot guy, and the next thing I know we’re in a room upstairs having the most intense sex I’ve ever had in my life. I left before he woke up and never laid eyes on him again.”

“You’re making this up,” Susan insisted.

“Nope. I wish I was. I don’t even remember the guy’s name, but he called me Red. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. Your turn.”

“Jeremy Wilson, happy now?”

“Jeremy Wilson? Are you telling me it’s been twenty years since you’ve been with a man?”

“Just because I don’t have a man in my life doesn’t mean I don’t have a satisfying sex life. I’ll have you know, some of the best orgasms are self-induced. Besides, did you ever stop to think that maybe I’m happy here on my own? For twenty years the only time I’ve ever had to myself was when I closed my eyes, and even then my patients found their way into my dreams.”

“There’s a whole big world out there between the hospital and here, you know.”

Susan balled up her hanky, agitated. “Is that what you tell yourself?” She narrowed her gaze at Becca. “What do you do with your time between visiting Jack’s grave and riding around on that motorcycle? I mean, aside from your drunken one-night stand.”

“Touché.”  Becca raised her cup and drained the last of her tea. “And on that note, I’ll leave you in peace to do whatever it is you do here every day, all day, on your own.”

“Don’t be like that. I don’t expect you to understand. Just know that I’m okay.” Susan lightly patted her hand and immediately wiped it on her hanky.

Becca pushed away from the table and picked up her helmet from beside the chair. “Okay, but promise me if you need anything—and I mean anything—you’ll call me?

Her friend smiled. “Yes, I promise.” She picked up the cups and stepped over to the sink. “Lock the door behind you.”

“You got it. I’ll call you sometime tomorrow.” Becca stepped out onto the front porch scattered with potted mums of yellow and red. She smiled at the colourful, homey touch and made her way down the stone walkway to her bike. What gives me the right to judge her or anyone for that matter? With a heavy sigh, she straddled her bike and turned the key.

Would I have ended up a recluse like her if my father hadn’t left me his bike? What would’ve happened if I had stayed in the room that night? She pushed the thoughts from her head.

“There’s no turning back the clock.” She flipped up the kickstand. The sun still shone high in the sky, and she paused at the end of the driveway to slip on her sunglasses before turning onto the street.

The mere mention of her partner, Jack, had her heart aching. Almost a year had passed since that horrific day he was shot. If she had dismissed protocol and followed her gut instinct, she could’ve saved his life. She would’ve taken the perpetrator down before he had the chance to point his gun at Jack’s head and pull the trigger.

A car horn blared behind her, jolting her in her seat at the same time the light turned yellow, then red. The irate driver honked again and yelled out his window. “What the hell’s the matter with you? Shouldn’t you be home baking cookies or something? Do everyone a favour and leave the big toys to the men.”

Becca sucked air through clenched teeth, reminding herself she wasn’t a cop on duty anymore. She turned the key off, set her bike on its kickstand, and counted to ten under her breath as she sauntered back to where the driver stared wide-eyed at her.

“Listen, why don’t you just turn yourself around like a good girl before things get ugly.”

Becca reached his door and jerked it open. “Get out.”

“What? Are you nuts?” He chuckled. “Trust me, you do not want me to get out of this car.”

Before the driver had a chance to move, Becca pulled him out of the car and threw him belly-up on the hood of his fancy Mercedes. She twisted his arm behind his back and leaned over him until her mouth was a whisper from the silver fringe of hair above his ear. “Listen, asshole, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood. I suggest you learn some manners on how to treat a lady before you open that fat trap of yours again.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He strained to turn his face toward a group of bystanders. “Someone call the cops. She’s fucking crazy.”

Becca laughed, and so did most of the crowd.

“What’s the matter? You don’t want to call the cops on a little girl like me, do you?” She kept hold of his arm and pulled him upright, shoving him into the driver’s seat. “Now I suggest you take your sorry ass home and check your undies.” She slammed the door and strutted back to her bike while the crowd erupted in applause. Before she twisted the throttle, she glanced back.

“Have a nice day.” She smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes over the rim of her shades. The driver mopped his damp forehead.

Her heart beat a hundred miles an hour as she rode away. What the hell did I just do? Becca hadn’t lost her temper like that in years. When she first joined the force she’d been reprimanded several times for her quick fuse, and had to quickly master reining in her anger.

Why now? Sure the guy was a chauvinistic pig, but he didn’t deserve to have her go all psycho on him. If she wasn’t so embarrassed about her behavior she’d turn around and apologize. She smirked.  In any case, I bet he thinks twice the next time he’s pissed at a chick on a bike.

When she pulled in her driveway, the sun had begun its descent. She’d normally eat out before heading home, but after her earlier altercation, she just wanted a nice, quiet house, microwave popcorn, and a couple of cold beers in front of the idiot box.

Talk about a stroke of luck. He smiled broadly, watching the motorcycle ride away. How will she feel when she learns her friend’s killer lurked outside in the shadows and watched her ride away? He snickered into his clenched hand. Probably not half as bad as she’ll feel when she finds out how much easier she made things for me.

Susan’s house sat back from the road. Meticulously manicured hedges skirted the edges of her self-imposed exile from the human race.

He didn’t have to gain entry under the pretense of delivering a flower. Thanks to Detective Talbot he slipped in through the unlocked door.

Sneaking up behind her added an element of surprise he enjoyed. The tea cup in her hand fell to the floor, shattering against the stark white ceramic tiles. With his hand over her mouth, he half-dragged her back into the living room.

Before he uncovered her mouth, he pressed his gun to her temple. “Now, you’re going to lie down on the sofa like a good girl. Aren’t you, Susan?”

He spun her around to look straight at her for the first time. Susan’s eyes grew big, and she started to sway.

“Oh, come on now,” he whispered. “You don’t want to miss all the excitement, do you?”

Tears slipped out from under lowered lashes seconds before she collapsed. By the time she came to, he’d tied her up and now straddled her on the couch. He‘d put on gloves and a mask, and all his tools were lined up on the coffee table next to them.

“Well, hello there. I trust you had a good sleep.”

Susan writhed beneath him, desperation in her cries. “Oh, my God! Why are you doing this to me? What do you want?”

“Justice, my dear, justice.” He picked up his bag and pulled out a soiled adult diaper. “Does this give you a clue?”

The putrid smell of shit filled the space between them and she gagged. “You’re crazy. What are you going to do with that? Are you a former patient of mine?”

He tilted his head back and laughed. “No, my dear, you were the patient.” Seconds before he stuffed the first piece of diaper in her mouth, he noted a flicker of understanding in her eyes.

His rain suit peeled off like a second skin and he tossed it in a portable incinerator along with the soiled gloves and wipes.

I’ll have to thank the detective one day for making things so much easier for me. To think Susan actually thought he was a former mental patient of hers. The corner of his lip twisted as he remembered the precise moment she understood—and how she literally pissed her granny pants when he revealed the needle. It almost seemed a crime to leave behind the beautiful lavender aster in her wrinkled hands.

“Now let’s see, where did I leave off?” He let his gaze skim the page of the journal.

Lori is obsessed with plastic surgery. One day the papers told of a doctor being butchered in his office. The same doctor Lori held responsible for disfiguring her with a botched surgery on her lips.

Could Lori have killed him? She was definitely angry enough to make it plausible. I confronted her today. She became very irate and stormed from the room.

Now I jump at every noise. The thought of her coming after me and suffering the same demise as the doctor brings me to tears....

He nodded decidedly and slid the bookmark down the crease of the next page, following the familiar handwriting.

Ready or not, Lori, here I come.

Chapter Three

In stunned silence, Becca sat on the edge of the leather chair. Since burying her partner of ten years, she’d become an expert at shutting down her emotions.

How is this possible? I just saw her a few hours ago. Why would anyone want to kill Susan?

“I want you to take me to her house now.” She stood and stared pointedly at Chief Thomson.

“You know I can’t do that, Becca. Please, sit down and I’ll try to explain what happened.”

She sat with a huff. “Okay, but I want to know everything.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “And I mean everything.”

Her boss sat behind his desk and rubbed his hands over his face. “It was The Florist.”

“The Florist? Are you telling me some guy delivered flowers and shot her when she answered the door?”

Chief raised a hand to halt her tirade. “Let me finish.” He waited until she settled back in her chair. “I’m afraid Susan isn’t his first victim. In fact, she is number four. The killer is a genius at covering his tracks. We have the best of the best trying to catch this prick, but so far he’s outsmarted us.”

“How do you know it’s him? There must be a least one person a day who is raped or shot by a stranger in their own home.”

“That’s not what earned him the title. He leaves each one in the exact same pose. The only difference is the variety of flora he puts in their hands.”

“Okay, that’s enough pussyfooting around. What exactly does this whack job do?” She squelched her volatile Irish temper.

Chief sighed wearily. “Follow me.” He led her to the familiar brainstorming room where they showcased the bigger cases.

The overpowering aroma of pine cleaner flooded her senses, intensifying her already queasy stomach. Becca rolled her shoulders back and stepped over the threshold. Everything around her ceased to exist as she zoned in on the bulletin boards at the front of the room. Three of four panels shared pictures of The Florist’s victims laid out on couches, each of them clasped a different pristine bloom in their hands, and all of them had a single gunshot wound to the head.

Becca swallowed hard, trying to process it all. She looked from one board to the next. In startling contrast to an otherwise peaceful expression, all three had their mouths sewn shut. Envisioning Susan’s last moments sent a shiver up her spine.

“Please tell me he did that to them after they were shot.”

Chief Thomson hung his head. “I wish I could tell you that, but no, he binds them and stuffs a different item in each of their mouths before he begins sewing.”

“What kind of items? Does he at least blindfold them?”

The last thread of her composure began unraveling as she watched the chief shake his head. She had a million questions and all she could think about was how terrified her sister’s best friend must have been. For the first time since Darla passed away, she was actually glad her sister wasn’t around to witness her dear friend’s demise.

“How did he get in?  I can’t see her opening the door to a stranger, even for a delivery.”

“The first three he preyed on were delivered a flower. The perp forced his way in when each one answered their doors.”

Becca frowned. “Why do you say the first three? What is so different about Susan’s murder?”

He shrugged. “From what our team can tell, he simply walked in the front door and snuck up on her washing the dishes.”

Becca choked. She asked me to lock the door behind me...did I? She replayed the scene of her departure. “Oh, my god, it’s my fault!” She buried her face in her hands.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Becca. How can it be your fault?” He sat on the corner of a table and passed her a handful of tissues.

“I stopped by to check in on her like I promised Darla I’d do. Susan told me to lock the door on my way out.” Her breaths came too fast, teetering on the edge of hysteria. “That bastard must have watched me ride away. She was doing dishes when I left.”

Chief Thomson took her hands in his and squeezed. “Look at me.”

She shuddered, fighting tears. “I did it...”

“Look at me, Becca.” Her boss put a finger under her chin and raised her head to stare directly into her eyes. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter if the door was locked or not. He chose her for a reason and nothing could have stopped him.”

A young girl rushed into the room and began tacking photos on the fourth board. Susan stared back at her, eyes filled with terror, mouth sewn shut.

Chief took Becca by the arm and ushered her from the room. “Damn! I’m so sorry. You didn’t need to see that right now.”

She suddenly stopped. The room spun around her. Susan’s face flashed over and over in her mind. Her knees buckled as strong arms wrapped around her and she fell into a black abyss.

Chapter Four

Bright lights coaxed her awake and she blinked rapidly until the room came into focus.

I’m in a hospital room?

Her dry mouth made it difficult to swallow. The image of Susan’s wide-eyed stare on the bulletin board came back to her. I’m so sorry Darla.

Her chest heaved as she tried to calm herself, and a sob rose into her throat. She quickly glanced in every direction. The weight of her head made it impossible to turn and see out the door.

“Hello? Is somebody there?” Panic settled in her voice, her fragile emotions hanging from a tattered thread.

Click. Click. Click.

A vision in stark white rushed to her side, taking her wrist in hand and checking her watch. “I’m right here, Miss Talbot. Take a deep breath and let it out nice and slow. I’m Nurse Karen, and you’re in the hospital where we are taking good care of you.”

“Why can’t I move my head?”

The nurse wrung out a cloth over a basin next to her bed and smoothed it across her heated brow, its coolness soothing. “We gave you something to help you stay calm. Your heart rate was sky high when your boss brought you in.”

“Chief Thomson?” She relaxed, the effort to talk suddenly too much.

“Why don’t you just close your eyes?” She re-soaked the cloth and laid it neatly across her forehead. “You’ll feel a whole lot better the next time you wake.  I promise.”

“Mmm...”

Randy eased back in his seat and removed his helmet, hanging it off his handlebars before he slid off his bike. At six in the morning the whir of a garbage truck marked the first sign of the city’s awakening.

The Westside Precinct was the only original station left. Its wide stone staircase commanded attention between the neat rows of newly restored brown houses and fragrant magnolias.

He winced attempting to run his fingers through his windblown mane. It served him right for not tying it back. He’d put on enough miles to know better.

Randy ambled through the historic building. He couldn’t figure out why the chief called in help from another division. Surely there was at least one detective here capable of partnering with Detective Talbot besides him.

He reached the empty meeting room where he’d agreed to meet Chief Thomson. His gaze came to rest on a row of bulletin boards filled with disturbing photos of The Florist’s victims.

His long, low whistle filled the room. Other than the type of flower, there didn’t appear to be any differences in the murders. That was until he took a closer look and discovered the uneven sutures on the first victim had progressed to perfectly spaced stitches on the last.

“He’s one sick puppy, eh?” Chief Thomson stood behind him, stroking his five o’clock shadow. His red-rimmed eyes told how badly he needed sleep.

“I’d say so, Chief.” He offered his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

Chief pumped his hand. “I’m glad you agreed to come on board.”

Randy arched an eyebrow. “I’m a little confused. Last I heard Becca took an early retirement.”

“Let’s just say she was on an extended sabbatical.”

“Even so, why me? There has to be at least one guy here who’s qualified.”

“Becca wants to come back and work the case. Technically she isn’t related to Susan, and I figure it’s better to let her in than have her run off half-cocked and get hurt. She’s one of my best, and the detectives here are just too close to keep her under wraps. She knows if there’s any sign of her emotions jeopardizing the case, she’s out.” He slapped a file on the table in front of him. “Here’s what we know, the guy uses the same MO each time he attacks.”

Randy straddled a chair and opened the file, listening to the chief.

“You can see here that so far he’s killed three women and one man. We believe he gets them to answer the door under the pretense of delivering flowers.  However, there hasn’t been a witness who can confirm this theory.”

A knock sounded on the door. He looked up to find the perfect candidate for the calendar of Hot Cops for charity. The officer had perfectly cropped bleach-blond hair, bright white teeth and golden tan. Everything I’m not, which is more than okay by me.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you wanted to know right away when Becca was being released from the hospital. Jerry left a few minutes ago to pick her up and take her home.”

“Thanks, Danny. This is Detective Bates, he’s going to partner with Becca to try and find the killer.”

“Randy, this is Detective Danny Redman. I’m sure you’ll be seeing lots of each other in the coming days.”

The officer briefly skimmed Randy’s hand before he spun on his heel and disappeared into the busy precinct. Randy got the distinct impression the man wasn’t too happy about him being there. Chief assured him there wouldn’t be any hard feelings about him coming on board. Even so, did the detective feel he should’ve been the one to partner with Becca?

“Okay, where were we? Oh right, once the murderer gets inside, he forces them to the couch at gunpoint. There he binds their hands and feet. Each victim has had a different item stuffed in their mouths before he meticulously sews their lips together. We find them laid out on the couch with a flower in their hands and a single gunshot to the center of their foreheads.

“They’re alive when he stitches them?”

Chief Thomson nodded. “Unfortunately, but there was one small difference with Susan. The killer walked right in and came at her from behind where she stood at the kitchen sink.”

Randy shrugged. “The door was open so he didn’t need to knock?”

“Becca left her house a short time before the killer showed up. Susan asked her to lock the door behind her.”

Randy winced. “Oh, crap.”

“On top of that, Becca promised her sister, Darla, on her deathbed to watch over Susan. So you can well imagine just how our detective is feeling right now. She needs someone to keep her grounded.”

“Okay, when do we start?”

“The sooner, the better.”

Chapter Five

Becca studied the snapshots strewn across her kitchen table. A shudder passed across her lips, and she wiped her eyes on her shirtsleeve.  Get your shit together, woman.

She held her chin up and took a deep, cleansing breath before casting her gaze on the haunting stares of The Florist’s victims.

Susan’s murder and her return to the force all seemed so surreal. She’d even been assigned a partner...something she swore she’d never have again. Chief left her no option—agree to work with Randy or not work the case.

This is nothing like having Jack as a partner. I have no emotional connection to ‘Randy’, outside of this case. Jack was family, my family.

No matter how many times she looked at the photos, she couldn’t come up with a common thread. They ranged in age from twenty-seven to sixty, all had different professions—a school teacher, a mechanic, flight attendant, and Susan, a retired nurse. A sexual motive was highly unlikely given the fact there were three women and one man and all remained fully dressed.

Becca startled, her coffee sloshed up the sides of her cup and splashed the front of her shirt. The rumble of a motorcycle pulling in her driveway stole her attention.

“Shit. Who can that be?” She rushed out her back door to find a tall guy climbing off a sweet-looking Road Glide. If he’s my new partner, maybe having one won’t be so bad after all.

He released his shoulder-length brown hair from the confines of a ponytail and removed his sunglasses. “You must be Becca. I’m Randy. I believe you’re expecting me?” He offered his hand and narrowed his gaze on her.

Oh God, it can’t be him. She feigned interest in his bike, purposely avoiding contact. “Of course, I wasn’t expecting you on a motorcycle.”

He shrugged and hung his helmet from the handlebars. “Chief Thomson figured you’d be much more comfortable riding. Besides, it’s a good cover, don’t you think?” His slow smile and arched brow made her wince.

Damn, he recognizes me. Becca quickly turned and headed for the house, desperately needing to put some distance between them. “Come in and we’ll go over the case.”

Randy chuckled lightly. “Nice to see you again, too.”

She flinched, very aware his comment warranted a response. I have to work with him or I’m off the case. How the hell am I going to pull this off?

Randy closed the door behind him.

“Oh!” Her hand flew to her chest.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

Becca faced the counter. “Coffee?”

“Black, please.” A chair scraped the floor and then creaked under his weight.

She briefly closed her eyes before setting a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. Her breath hitched as he gently touched her arm.

“Red.”

“You must have me confused with someone else.” She pulled away and sat at the other side of the table. “Here are the crime scene photos.”

“I know you recognize me, Red.”

Becca looked at him. “Listen, I need to find this killer, and in order for me to do so, I have to work with a partner. I can’t focus on this case if I’m distracted by you.”

“So what you’re saying is that you want me to forget that night ever happened? I don’t know if I can do that, especially since you’ve haunted my dreams ever since.”

Becca cursed the heat rushing to her face. “Okay, maybe we can’t put it completely out of our minds, but can we please try to keep our focus on solving this case?”

“If that’s what you want I’ll try, Red.”

His sexy smirk set her pulse racing. “And stop calling me Red. I have a name.”

The sexual tension between them made it very hard for her to focus, but they managed to go over the case. Randy agreed with her that the victims had nothing in common, and while the killer’s methods were consistent, there were two variations in each case: the type of flower and the object stuffed in their mouths.

“I think our first step is to track down the source of the flowers. They’re not something your average florist shop keeps in stock. In fact, a couple of them have to be special ordered.”

He stroked his jaw. “Or he grows them himself.”

Becca nodded. “Yes, that’s a definite possibility. We should check out stores in the area first.”

“Sure, we’ll tell them we’re planning our wedding.”

His lopsided grin brought a smile to her lips. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’ll meet you at the bikes.”

Randy hung onto the railing and expelled a long breath. How am I going to be her partner when all I want to do is replay the incredible night we shared so long ago?

She locked her back door and without giving it a second thought, he took her in his arms and captured her mouth in a kiss.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” She swiped the back of her hand across her mouth. Anger flashed in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Red. I had to get that out of the way if I have a hope in hell of working with you on this case.”

“It cannot happen again. Do I make myself clear?” Becca stormed off, stomping down the steps and jogging to her bike.

Randy ran a thumb over his lips and smiled. For one brief moment before pulling away, she kissed him back.

Normally he was the decision maker, but it seemed his new partner fully intended on taking the lead. Fine by me. He was thoroughly enjoying the view of her oh-so-sweet ass, straddling a mighty fine turquoise and cream Harley. Her obvious comfort in the saddle told of a seasoned rider.

Under any other circumstances, blue skies and the sun’s warm rays were an open invitation to ride. Unfortunately, with a guy like The Florist on the loose, there wouldn’t be any afternoon runs to the water until they found him.

Randy followed Becca into the parking area out front of Jack’s Flowers. After parking and walking across the parking lot to the front door, no words were exchanged. The jingle of a bell announced their arrival. An overwhelming wave of floral ambrosia caused him to sneeze. He’d never seen so many flowers in one place.  Potted plants, decorative foliage, and freshly cut arrangements filled the small shop on either side of a narrow path to the counter.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” A silver-haired man, his shoulders slightly hunched, stood behind a wooden counter.

Becca offered her hand. “Hi there. My name is Becca, and this is my...”  She looked in his direction. “Fiancé, Randy.”

He stifled a laugh at her obvious discomfort. “We’re hoping you can help us. We’re looking for very specific flowers for our big day.”

The store-owner stroked his stubbly chin. “Well, I’ll sure try. What kind of flowers are we talking about?”

From her inside pocket she took a folder paper and smoothed it out on the counter. “White orchids.”

The shop owner whistled long and low. “That sure is one pretty specimen.”

Randy caught a flash of disappointment in his new partner’s eyes. He stepped up to stand beside her. “Are they something you carry here?”

“I don’t keep orchids in stock, but I can special order them, that is if you’re not in too much of a hurry.”

“No, that’s fine. We’re in a time crunch. Thanks for your help.” She took back the picture, refolding it on her way out of the store.

Randy held the door open and followed her outside. “One down, how many to go?”

Becca offered a weak smile. “Too many.”

He tasted the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, and Jeffery Dunn lay at his feet, out cold.

“Did you really think you’d get out of your punishment so easily?”

Despite the fucker’s lame attempt to overpower him, the butt end of his gun connected with the side of the man’s skull hard enough to render him unconscious.

There will be no second chances for you, buddy.

He bound his hands and feet, even tied his knees together for good measure before dragging him over and up onto the couch. Next, he secured his head with heavy tape.

Jeffery mumbled incoherently, struggling against the rope. His eyes flew open. “What the hell is going on?”

He tilted back his head and laughed. “If it wasn’t for guys like you, I’d be with my one true love, and she’d still be alive.”

“Who would? You must have the wrong guy. I have no idea what you’re talking about. How about you untie me and we’ll just forget any of this ever happened?”

From his bag, he pulled out basketball netting. “Maybe this will give you a clue. Do you remember the last time you saw one of these?”

Jeffery’s face turned beet red. “You’re fucking nuts! You’re talking crazy-talk.”

“I’ve heard enough from you.” Before Jeffery could say another word, he stuffed the netting in his victim’s mouth.

Anger and fear dueled in the guy’s bulging eyes. He struggled against his bindings as he gagged and made a futile attempt to spit the netting out.

“Do you remember watching a kid shooting hoops with his dad...and how jealous you were? Do you recall how you were angry enough to aim your car at the little guy later that night?”

Jeffery froze—a hint of recognition in his too-bright eyes.

“It’s going to give me great pleasure shutting your mouth for good.”

The last two lines of the journal entry urged him on.

If the boy hadn’t jumped into the bushes, he’ would’ve been seriously hurt, or even killed. Should I be scared? Is Jeffery envious of me?

The needle slid through his lips easily. He’d become quite the accomplished tailor. A slow smile of satisfaction played on his lips as Jeffery’s eyes roll back in his head. Afterward, he meticulously cleaned up around the stitches and then took out his revolver.

The sound of him smacking Jeffery’s cheeks broke the silence. “Wakie, wakie! You don’t want to miss the grand finale, do you?”

Jeffery opened his eyes to stare down the muzzle of the gun. His eyes brimmed with tears as he watched The Florist take position at the end of the sofa.

“Paybacks are a bitch, asshole.”

Chapter Six

She suddenly spun around, reaching for her gun.

“Whoa!” Randy raised his hands.

Becca gulped for air, struggling to catch her breath. “Don’t sneak up on people. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He stepped back. “Sorry, I just wanted to ask if you’d like some coffee, but apparently caffeine is the last thing you need.”

Blowing out a rush of pent-up frustration, Becca lowered herself to the curb and pushed her fingers through her tangled hair. What I need is sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the crime photos of all those vacant eyes haunted her, the disturbing image of their mouths sewn shut, emblazoned in her memory.

Randy sat on the curb beside her, his musky scent comforting and titillating at the same time. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you how you should feel. What I will tell you is that I’m in this for the long haul. We will find the son-of-a-bitch together. You are not in this alone.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

Becca blinked back the threat of tears and shrugged his hand away. There was no denying the attraction between them, but a relationship with this man wasn’t an option. I’m poison to those I love, plus everyone close to me dies. First Jack, then Darla, and now Susan... She took a deep breath and pushed herself up from the curb.

“Thanks. I guess we won’t find him sitting around here all day.”

Much to her relief, he let it go without further discussion and ambled over to his bike with an air of quiet confidence.

Becca followed suit and prepared to head out. “Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.”

Randy pulled his hair back in a ponytail before putting on his helmet. “Alrighty then, let’s rock and roll.”

Within minutes both engines rumbled beneath them. Randy put two fingers to his forehead and smiled, raised his foot from the ground, and then took off.

Maybe it’s time I let someone else lead. The corners of her mouth twitched as she checked him out from behind. He’s definitely the epitome of a hot biker, and he definitely knew exactly how to make her body sing. She heaved a sigh. Please let the next shop give us something—anything—that might bring us closer to finding The Florist.

Randy lifted his coffee to inhale the rich aroma and noticed Becca did the same thing from the edge of her seat. A braided silver band on her pinky finger, the only jewellery of any kind he’d seen her wear, glinted in the sun. From what he could tell she wasn’t seeing anyone special. Is it an heirloom?

A sign hung in the flower shop window: Gone to Lunch. His watch read ten minutes to twelve, giving them a little time to sit in the sun and enjoy a cup of java.

“You know, if this is another dead-end, maybe we need to look at the growers nearby. There are a few nurseries outside the city limits.”

Becca nodded. “I agree. Somebody has to know something. I’m realizing you’re average home gardener wouldn’t have the resources to grow these types of flowers.”

The jingle of keys stole their attention.  The store owner stood at the door to her shop.

“Excuse me, miss. Could we have a minute of your time?” Randy jogged across the parking lot with Becca on his heels.

He introduced them, dropping the guise of planning a wedding.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to realize they’d hit another brick wall.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help,” the proprietor stated.

Randy’s pager buzzed, and he raised a finger. “I’ll be right back.” He walked away, taking his cell phone out and keying in the precinct number.

“Randy, The Florist struck again. I’m on my way over there now. “

“Do you want us to meet you there, Chief?”

“How is Becca holding up?”

“She’s doing okay.” He opened his notebook and scribbled down the address the chief rattled off.

Becca crossed the distance between them, a genuine smile on her face as she waved a piece of paper in the air.

“The owner thinks we need to visit a Professor Olsen Davies. He’s a professor of horticulture. If anyone has the answers, it will be him.” She stopped short and looked sideways at him. “Is there something going on I should know about?”

“He struck again. Chief Thomson wants us on the scene right away.”

The unpleasant bitterness churning in her stomach increased tenfold with the putrid stench of death coming from the house. She squatted and drew in a shaky breath.

Randy crouched beside her and spoke discreetly. “Are you okay?”

Becca pressed her lips together firmly and gave him a definitive nod. “Let’s do it.” She straightened her stance and gave her professional persona full rein, a mastered trait garnered over twenty years living on the ugly side of life.

Once inside, an eerie silence settled upon the room like a blanket of fog. The coroner kneeled beside the latest victim, a man. His eyes remained wide open, and blood caked the flawlessly aligned holes where the needle had pushed through his lips. A perfect hole in the center of his forehead looked like the killer had painted it on. The man clasped the long stem of a fuchsia azalea in his bound hands.

Disturbingly peaceful.

Chief Thomson stepped out of the kitchen and padded across the room to join them.

“Detectives,” he said, stone-faced. “Jeffery Dunn, thirty-eight years old, computer tech.”

“Did you find anything that might link him to any of the others?” Randy let his gaze wander the room.

Their boss shook his head. “Not that we can see.”

Becca frowned. “I don’t see a box.”

“That’s because there isn’t one. None of the other crime scenes had one either. This guy does a thorough cleaning before he leaves.”

“How did he get in this time?” she asked.

The chief shrugged. “No sign of forced entry or a scuffle of any kind. There is one difference to this case, though.”

“And that would be?”

“The neighbour called the cops after seeing a motorcycle leave the driveway. The old gal has lived in this neighborhood for years and never once saw a bike at the victim’s house. In fact, he rarely had visitors. When she phoned over and didn’t get an answer, she called 911.”

“A motorcycle? The press is going to have a field day with this, bad-assed bikers and all,” Randy folded his arms across his broad chest.

“Did anyone see a motorcycle at the other houses? A delivery truck maybe?” asked Becca.

“That’s a good question. There is no report of a delivery truck or a strange car out front.”

“I bet nobody even thought to mention a bike,” Becca added.

“I’ll get somebody on that right now.” Chief Thomson strode out to his car.

Becca moved robotically. It was like she’d flipped a switch to transform the confident, self-assured woman he was falling for into a stone-faced, no-nonsense cop.

While she talked with the coroner and one of the crime-scene techs, Randy took the opportunity to call the professor. A woman named Mable answered and scheduled them a visit the following morning.

Hopefully Becca would agree to take the rest of the evening off, giving him time to research Professor Davies.

The motorcycle added an interesting twist to the case. Unfortunately the press would undoubtedly blow the biker aspect way out of proportion and everyone who rode a bike would be suspect, putting even more emotional strain on the city.

By the time they were ready to leave the crime scene, the sun had begun its decent, lighting the horizon ablaze in shades of orange and pink.

“Why don’t you go home and take it easy for the rest of the night? It’s been a long day, and I think you could use a good night’s sleep.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go home and take a long soak in the tub.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Sometimes you act more like a father than a partner.”

He moved in close enough to feel her breath on his face. “Trust me, Red. I have no desire to be your father. How about I share that bubble bath with you and remind you how good we are together?”

Becca pressed her palm against his chest and pushed him back a step. “Trust me, I don’t need a reminder.”

“Is that a no?” Randy trailed a finger down the hollow of her neck. Her shiver had him grinning sheepishly.

“How about you ask me again after we find this guy?”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Randy insisted following her home and seeing her to the door.

“This really isn’t necessary. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a cop. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Humor me. I’ll be back here by nine bells. Try to get some sleep.” He turned on his heel and descended the porch steps.

“If I’m a good girl, can we stop for ice cream tomorrow?”

He chuckled to himself on the way back to his bike.

You can have anything your heart desires, Red.

Chapter Seven

For the first time since Susan’s death, Becca slept through the night without a nightmare. Dare she feel hopeful about their visit with the professor in just a little while?

She sifted through pictures of the different flowers The Florist left in his victims’ hands. How were these beautiful images connected to the strange items he left in their mouths? It was more than his signature, something he went to great lengths to orchestrate.

The rumble of a Harley approaching brought a smile to her face. She padded across the tile floor to a full-length mirror in the hallway. At a light rap on the door, she quickly swiped gloss across her lips and slipped the tube in the front pocket of her jeans.

“Come in.” She inched the door open, and her partner poked his head inside. “Have a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”

Randy shook the hair from his eyes “Sure. We’ve got a little time to kill before we’re due at the farm.” He pulled out a chair and sat, careful to keep his feet on the mat in front of the door.

“Don’t worry about your boots.” She poured him a cup of coffee, inwardly pleased he cared enough not to step on the floor.

He reached for his mug at the same time she set it on the table, his hand lingering a few seconds longer than necessary. Flustered, she addressed the photos.

“It’s ironic how beautiful the flowers are. Why does he leave them behind after doing what he does to the poor souls?” He sipped from his mug.

She shrugged. “I’ve been asking myself the same question. Maybe the professor can shed some light on this whole sordid mess.”

Randy gulped the rest of his coffee down. “Well, there’s no sense in sitting inside on a beautiful day like this. It’s a nice run through the country to his property.”

“Now that sounds like a plan.” She smiled. “I’ll just grab my helmet and we can head out.”

Randy squinted against the bright morning sun and slipped on his sunglasses. It was a beautiful day to be out on the bikes. Too bad it wasn’t under different circumstances. He wouldn’t mind getting reacquainted with the gal he’d only known as Red.

Her bike, parked outside the garage door, sparkled in the sun. Some serious time went into buffing the chrome. You gotta love a woman who takes such pride in her ride.

The back door banged shut, and Becca locked it before putting her helmet on. She’d tied her oversized denim shirt around her tiny waist. The black tank top revealed three quarter sleeves of colorful tattoos up her arms. The edge of another tattoo peeked out from her scooped neckline. Several colourful feathers cupped the curve of her milky white breast. The memory of her naked body quickened his pulse.

Tall, tattooed and mysterious. He grinned sheepishly.

It didn’t take long before the wind worked its magic, bringing a rosy glow to Becca’s cheeks. She looked over at him and flashed a bright smile as he pulled up beside her. He swallowed hard and shifted in his seat to accommodate his arousal.

Oh boy, I’m screwed if just a smile has this effect on me. Maybe she’s right and I need to rein in my wayward libido to focus on this case. We’re on the trail of a serial killer, and for Becca, it’s personal.

Randy gave her a definitive nod and let off on the gas to fall back in behind her, but not before he caught a telltale wrinkle sprout between her gorgeous green eyes.

A brisk morning breeze carried the sweet scent of flowers in full bloom from a beautiful, endless sea of color–a welcome distraction.

He followed Becca down a long winding drive that eventually yawned open to a picturesque house. He eased in beside her out front of a double garage.

He whistled. “This is quite the set up, eh?”

Becca set her helmet on her seat and finger-combed the tangles from her shiny red hair.

He’d sat at his computer long into the night researching Professor Davies. The man had been a high school science teacher for fifteen years before climbing the rungs to become a professor of horticulture at the university. Last spring, at sixty years of age, he took a semi-retirement; he now taught hands-on horticulture, specifically hydroponics here in his greenhouses.

“Well, let’s see if this guy can decipher The Florist’s psychotic reasoning.”

Becca nodded and slipped the denim shirt back over her tattoos, visibly switching to cop mode.

It must be nice to have an on/off button. Randy followed her across the driveway.

Becca climbed the porch stairs with Randy at her side. They paused at the door, and he looked her way.

“Are you okay?”

“Absolutely.”  Her finger was already on the doorbell.

Through the etched glass, Becca saw an older woman scurrying toward them.

“Good morning.” Her bright smile welcomed them as she wiped her damp hands on a crisp, white apron.

“Good morning. I’m Detective Randy Bates, and this is my partner, Detective Becca Talbot.”

“Yes, of course. I’m Mable. The professor is expecting you, so if you’ll follow me this way....”

They stepped onto an incredibly polished floor. Seamless tile depicted many geometric and floral patterns, skirting a spectacular staircase. Mable led them through a formal living room with luxurious celery-green curtains and deep, curvy pelmets. Beautiful crystal lighting hung from the ceiling on either side of a contemporary sofa. Winged-back chairs in a contrasting shade of vanilla provided the perfect complement. It was a room she’d only seen the like of in high end design magazines.

Mable opened impressive French doors to a homey sunroom filled with mismatched furniture and dated lace curtains. The scent of pipe tobacco lingered in the air. Sitting in an overstuffed armchair, a distinguished, white-haired gentleman looked up from a magazine and set it on his lap, followed by removing his glasses.

“Hello, you must be the officers wanting to talk flora with me.” His smile reached his sparkling blue eyes, putting Becca even more at ease than the room did.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She smiled warmly. “I’m Detective Talbot, and this is my partner, Detective Bates.”

“I’m a little surprised you’re asking me for the significance of these blooms. My wife shared my passion for horticulture, but she’s the one who actually did all the research into their meanings.”

An air of melancholy settled in the room.

Becca laid out the pictures of the flowers she’d scanned off the Internet. “These are the ones left in the hands of The Florists’ victims. We hoped you might shed some light on their significance, if any.”

The professor set his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and perused the images thoughtfully. His long, wrinkled fingers feathered the edges of each photo before turning his attention back to them.

“This is quite a diverse selection you have here.”

Becca tapped the first photograph of a white carnation. “What is the definition of this one? Of course, we’ve researched them on our own, but came up with quite a few conflicting definitions.”

The housekeeper appeared, and Randy jumped up, taking the fully laden tray from her hands. The chivalrous gesture stained the woman’s cheeks pink.

“Why thank you, young man. You can set it in the middle of this table.” She smiled and slid the magazine out of the way. “Would you like me to pour?”

Becca smirked. “No, Randy can take care of that for you.” She pressed her lips firmly together to contain her laughter.

He arched an eyebrow. “Thank you, Becca. How kind of you to offer my services.”

Professor Davies peered over the rim of his glasses from her to Randy and then back to the picture in his hands. “White flowers in general usually lean toward purity. The carnation defines it in the form of beauty, love and charity. These qualities might symbolize the memory of someone who is deceased.”

“Are you suggesting he might have known and loved the first victim?” Becca sat on the edge of her seat.

He shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible. In my opinion, since the type of flora is polar opposites from the way he killed them it almost feels like a present...a parting gift, if you may.”

Very interesting possibility. Becca anxiously awaited his next assessment.

The teacher took another photo from her. “Hmm, a lily. Beautiful. It’s known to symbolize honesty and faith, and yes, even purity in the form of virginity. In the Bible, the white lily is associated with the Virgin Mary.”

The professor sweetened his tea with two sugar cubes.

Becca looked over at Randy. “Virginity can’t be the common thread. Susan never married, but she did have a serious boyfriend in her early twenties.”

“Three days after the Virgin Mary’s burial, the tomb was found empty, save for a bunch of white lilies. It became the emblem of Annunciation, the Resurrection of the Virgin. The pure white petals signify the spotless beauty, and the golden anthers are her soul captured in heavenly light.”

Becca sat entranced by the lyrical quality of the man’s voice. He must be one hell of a teacher.

Randy quietly took notes in his ever-present notebook.

“It’s interesting that the killer would go from white to the vibrant red of this gladiola. He held the paper between two fingers. “Strength and integrity. If it were a bouquet of them, the sender is likely conveying his or her infatuation with the recipient.”

Becca’s eyes filled as she handed him the snapshot of the asters left in Susan’s hands. The teacher nodded, understanding in his expressive eyes. He briefly touched her hand before accepting the photo.

“In ancient times, if one burned aster leaves they believed it would drive away evil spirits. Today, they’re used to create a sense of peaceful stability. This shade of purple is very similar to the wisteria.”

He pointed to the lavender wisteria intertwined throughout her tattoos, a few delicate blooms visible below her shirtsleeve. Their fragrance had been her mother’s favorite. Becca cleared her throat noisily before taking a sip of tea.

“Would the meanings be any different for a man or is it a unisex type of deal?” Randy leaned forward to pick up his cup.

Becca closed her eyes, grateful for the timely diversion to gather her emotions.

“That’s an interesting question. I’d have to say if there is a difference, but to my knowledge it hasn’t been charted.” He tapped the top of his head. “I have acquired an extensive amount of data over the years.” He chuckled lightly before glancing at his watch. “You have one more for me? I’m afraid my students will come looking for me soon.”

“Yes.” Randy passed him the last picture. “We really appreciate you taking the time to see us today.”

“A white lilac is an interesting choice. They have a very short life. It is very fragrant and associated with youthful innocence and confidence. In a nutshell, it means selflessness.”

Becca took the photo from him. “Do you know of a florist the killer might have ordered these from?”

The teacher shook his head while stuffing his glasses in a case inside his shirt pocket. He leaned heavily on his cane to stand. His obvious discomfort deepened the soft lines around his eyes and mouth. “No, I find it highly unlikely. My guess is he’s quite knowledgeable in horticulture and is growing them himself.”

Randy stood and offered his hand. “Thank you for your time. If by chance we have more questions, will you be available to see us?”

“Of course, just call before you come so they can track me down. It’s easy to get lost around here.” He winked playfully before turning his attention to Becca. He clasped her hand. “I’m terribly sorry for the loss of your friend, my dear. I know how it feels to lose a loved one. A little piece of you is gone forever.” His eyes clouded, and he gave her hand a final squeeze before stepping through the open doors to the back deck, his steps uneven. “Maybe next time I’ll take you on a tour.”

He hung on to the rail and hobbled down the few remaining stairs to where his ride waited.

“I would love that.” She whispered.

“As would I.”

Chapter Eight

Becca swallowed the bitterness at the back of her throat. Susan’s murder was now added to the white boards. She quickly looked away and shifted in her chair to block the images from her line of vision.

Chief Thomson now stood in front of the boards shaking his head. “I have to say, in all my years on the force, this is one of the most baffling cases I’ve seen.” He rested on the table edge, file in hand. “We’ve had five murders over the past couple of months and we don’t have a shred of evidence that might bring us closer to finding The Florist.

Dark circles under the chief’s eyes told of the toll this case had taken on him. Over the years, Becca had grown to think of him as so much more than just her boss.

He is family.

“Our resident profilers are going to tell us their take on this madman. Hopefully they’ve seen something we might have overlooked.”

Dylan and Carol were the male-female extension of each other. Both of them dressed in black goth-like attire, which included a piercing through one eyebrow and spacers in their ears like black holes. These aspects alone set them apart from others, but it was their snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes that commanded attention wherever they went.

Dylan stepped forward first. “I think it’s best to start by looking at the significance of each of his rituals. We believe a revolver is used to keep his victims in check and avoid any chance of a physical altercation. That doesn’t mean he’s not more than capable of holding his own.

“Each step he makes is for a specific reason—from how he lays them out on the couch to his need to clean their faces before leaving. Their heads are taped down to ensure a perfectly executed shot.”

“We feel each step is something he feels he must do,” Carol intervened. “We’re convinced the objects in their mouths are clues as to why these particular people were chosen by him. With Sandra we found birthday cake. With Derek, a hospital gown. The basketball netting and so on.... Each item means something to him.”

“Why does he sew their mouths shut? It’s not like they can tell us who killed them,” Danny, one of several uniformed officers scattered about the room, asked.

“It’s for one of two reasons: either he doesn’t want them to speak at all or simply to keep the objects in their mouths.” Carol turned back to the boards.

Becca’s stomach churned.

“The single gunshot, specifically between the eyes, is to ensure there is no chance of survival and to complete the picture. He takes great pride in how they look before he leaves them.”

Dan cleared his throat. “The single flower is like a period at the end of a sentence. Each bloom is chosen for individual reasons. We strongly believe there is a common thread between these victims.

Becca hung on every word, agreeing with everything. Unfortunately it brought them no closer to finding the son-of-a-bitch.

“Professor Davies gave us the meaning of each bloom. I took the liberty of printing off a few copies of his findings. The killer didn’t buy these from your neighborhood florist.” Randy passed the printed pages around the room. “The professor believes the killer has extensive knowledge of horticulture or at least the species we’ve seen. He also needs a climate-controlled place to grow them—like the greenhouses Professor Davies uses to grow hydroponics.”

Chief Thomson slid off the table and resumed his place at the front of the room while Dan, Carol and Randy seated themselves. “I think our main focus is to find the link between these cases. Polly, start with phone records. Let’s see if we get lucky and find a common number. Randy and Becca, find out if this guy would need to buy anything on a regular basis to sustain a grow-op sophisticated enough to produce these species.”

“I’ll see if we can get another appointment with the professor.” Randy scribbled in his notebook.

Chief nodded in agreement. “Maybe we should check out the student workers. Find out if it’s possible for them to take something from there without drawing suspicion. Do they even grow the flowers we’re looking for? That should keep us busy. Call if any of you come up with something.”

“How long will it take you to compare phone records, Polly?” Becca asked on their way out of the room.

“Maybe an hour, if I don’t run into any snags.” She cracked her ever-present gum.

“Call me when you’re done?” Becca pressed.

Polly smiled, revealing a mouthful of metal. At forty years old she wore a full set of braces. “You betcha.”

Professor Davies stood at the bottom of his porch staircase, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Well, word has it you’re the man to see when it comes to posies.” Randy rocked on his heels, pulling on imaginary suspenders.

The professor chuckled lightly. “Well, I don’t know about that, but unfortunately this old body isn’t what it once was. I’ve asked my right-hand man, Jacob, to show you around.”

A jeep-like vehicle ambled up the road toward them. The driver parked a few feet away and jumped out from behind the wheel, offering his hand.

“This is Jacob. Jacob, this is Detectives Bates and Talbot.”

“Nice to meet you both.” Jacob shook Randy’s hand and then Becca’s.

She couldn’t put a finger on it, but there was something off about this friendly worker.

“Hop on! I’ll show you the fields first.”

Sensing her reluctance, the professor took her hand and ushered her to the jeep. “Don’t worry. Jacob will take good care of you. We’ve been using these Mules for years to get around the acreage.  Sometimes I think he knows more about how things run around here than I do. Ask him anything.”

Becca climbed up onto the seat and gripped the crash bars of the open box truck, turning her knuckles white. Jacob drove them to the far end of a row of glass structures where a field of flowers in a riot of red, pink and yellow stretched for as far as the eye could see. Unfortunately, their escort’s jitters left her feeling a little uptight, unable to enjoy the beauty before them.

“In another month or so this will all be gone and we’ll grow everything in the greenhouses.”

“Do the students perform all of the work or is there a regular crew?” Randy asked. He knelt and cupped a vibrant yellow bloom in his hand, a gentle touch Becca hadn’t expected from him.

A shiver crept up her spine and she glanced back just in time to catch the tail end of a man walking between the glass structures. There were workers all over the farm. Why had this particular man set off her cop-sensor? She’d best keep alert in case he showed up again. She shifted her attention back to their guide.

“Okay, now I’ll take you to see the greenhouses.” He stepped up behind the wheel. “The first one is close to the set-up needed to grow the flowers you’ve spoken to my boss about. Of course, what you see here is on a much larger scale.”

Randy stared off into the distance, seemingly lost in a world of his own. He’d barely spoken a word to her since they arrived.

Maybe it’s me, but there is definitely something off kilter here. She was usually very good at reading people, but these three men had her scratching her head.

Inside the first house, a fine mist sprayed over a vast array of flora. Her gaze was drawn to the orange-red gladiolas. How can something so beautiful hold such a painful memory? Will I ever be able to appreciate their beauty again?

“Do you have a list of the flowers in that notebook of yours?” Becca reached for the book.

Randy pulled it tight to his chest. “Of course I do.” He licked the tip of two fingers before leafing through the pages.

Jacob perused the list on the page Randy held open for him. “Yes, we grow all of them, except for those.”

Randy’s reaction left her a little dumbfounded and more than a little curious about the contents of his notebook.

“Except for which one?” Becca asked.

Jacob eyed her curiously, as if her question was unexpected. “Lilacs, they aren’t something easily produced hydroponically. Outside, the shrubs only blossom for a short period in the spring. The only way to extend their flowering time is to grow a variety of lilacs. Regardless, even the most revered grower might extend the period from two to six weeks tops.”

“When were the last blooms out this year?” asked Randy.

The worker stroked his jaw. “Probably around two weeks ago. You still have a nice shade bush once they stop blooming.”

With her curiosity piqued, she considered the new details. The killer left behind a lilac almost three weeks ago, so it’s very possible he took them from a bush outside?

Her brow creased. “Are there many Lilac trees in this part of the country?”

“In Ontario you’ll find the most lilacs in the Cornwall, Ottawa regions. I’ve seen a handful of bushes around here. In fact, we have a patch right here on the property. If the soil is loose enough, they pretty much take care of themselves.”

Becca got that familiar nagging feeling again as they turned to leave. This time, she slowly turned her head, but found nothing out of the ordinary except for the back door closing behind someone.

Randy continued talking to Jacob as they passed through the remaining greenhouses. There were ten to twelve students and another three or four older men working in each structure. Nobody stood out. In fact, most left Becca with the distinct impression they were disrupting the day-to-day flow of beauty in the making.

A man standing at the back entrance caught her attention. Becca’s instincts told her it was the same guy she’d seen a few times before. He towered over the older man he talked to, and his thick blond hair further set him apart from the dark-haired students.

Are you following me? If so, why?

“Jacob, who is that guy standing there at the back?” The words had just left her mouth when the stranger looked at her and quickly slipped out the door.

“What guy?”

“He was just there. I also saw him at the last two stops. A tall guy with blond wavy hair...?”

Jacob diverted his gaze, but not before she caught the fear in his eyes.

“I don’t know. I have almost one hundred guys here. It could be anyone.”

So why does the fact I saw him make you so uncomfortable?

The distinct roar of a Harley being kicked to life reached her ears. Both she and Randy bolted outside. The glint of their own bikes brought a united sigh of relief. Puzzled, they scanned the area for another bike.

“Do any of the students or workers here ride a motorcycle?

Her senses were now on high alert. Maybe a tall, blond guy?

Jacob furrowed his brow. “I don’t think so. I definitely would remember seeing a bike here on the farm. I know my boss had a motorcycle back in the day, but I hardly think he’s in any condition to kick one over.”

Randy heaved a sigh. “Well, I think we’ve seen enough for now. Do you think we can talk to the professor again?”

“Why don’t we take a walk up to the house and see?”

Becca trailed behind, grateful for the time to sort her thoughts. How did he ride out of sight so fast? Unless he’s still here....

Chapter Nine

Carol Tate was a creature of habit, making his plan a lot easier except for one small problem he hadn’t taken into account. Given her profession, she’d be well-versed when it came to The Florist, nixing his usual ruse of delivering flowers.

The big shot attorney worked an eight-hour day, never arriving home later than half past five. She’d change out of her stuffy lawyer clothes and into yoga pants, a t-shirt and white runners.

Her nightly jog always took the same amount of time, giving him an hour to get into her house unnoticed. Surprisingly, Ms. Hotshot never locked the door behind her. If the old lady neighbor wasn’t nosing about, he’d be able to slip inside easily. If she was, he’d just have to put an end to her busybody ways. His pulse raced, excited about the change in plans. He eagerly anticipated the look on Carol’s face when she found out she had an unexpected visitor.

Carol stepped outside, closing the unlocked door behind her. She looked up and down the street while putting in her ear buds and jogged down the steps and off into the neighborhood.

He reminded himself of why he was there to begin with. He couldn’t afford to slip up due to having way too much fun. His fingers touched the cool leather of the journal in his bag, and he leaned up against the wall and opened it to the bookmarked page.

How many pedophiles, rapists, and abusers are out on the street because of a defense attorney with no morals and a perfect track record? Am I fooling myself in thinking I can help her? Have I put my own well-being at risk by knowing too much? I have to admit, she scares me.

With a final nod, he tucked the journal back in his bag and looked up and down the street, paying special attention to the neighbour. Once he felt confident no eyes were on him, he scurried around the corner of the bungalow, up the front steps, and into the house.

Carol Tate certainly didn’t spend her money on interior decorating. Everything looked plain and extremely minimal: a leather sofa, a medium-sized flat-screen television and a glass coffee table. The only semblance of a personal touch came in the form of a black and white abstract painting centered on the wall behind her couch.

Nothing spectacular, just like the owner.

He took a leisurely stroll through the tiny house, taking all of ten minutes. Inside a walk-in closet the size of most people’s bedrooms, he discovered some of her vast fortune. The tailored suits and Gucci shoes were definitely quality items, but also very plain. The only punch of color in the entire closet was a formal ball gown in vibrant red, adorned in frosty crystals.

Where would a woman like her wear a dress like this?

He held the garment in front of him in the full-length mirror. I’d bet my last dollar she went to this event solo. He flared out the full skirt. I look good in red. Carefully, he returned the dress to the exact same place.

Now, where shall I hide? Do I stand on the other side of the door and point my trusty revolver in her stony face? A smile played at the corners of his lips, and he nodded, leaving the room in search of the perfect hiding place.

Within minutes of finding a spot, the front door opened and closed. Carol Tate sang to herself on her way to the bedroom. He knew she was undressing and would head straight for the shower. The thought of her being naked repulsed him, but he could think of no better way to mortify the always-in-control ball breaker.

The second the shower door closed behind her, he left his hiding place in the pantry to ready the living room for her big surprise.

“Hello? Is somebody out there?” She stepped out of her bedroom, clutching her robe closed and inching her way down the short hallway to the living room. “I know someone is here.”

She’d heard the music and undoubtedly suspected she wasn’t alone. Her jaw dropped upon seeing the white orchid in an empty brandy bottle in the center of her coffee table. Her gasp as her gaze settled on the tumbler of amber liquid, made his day.

Carol Tate shrieked and ran for the front door, fumbling with the locks just like he knew she would.

“Oh, my God! Somebody help me!”

Before she could call for help in earnest, he came up behind her and pressed the revolver to her temple.

“Shhhh....” He put his mouth next to her ear and gave it a flick with his tongue. “Guess who?” He spun her around, pinning her against the door.

She had already gathered her composure and now glared into his eyes. “Listen, if you are who I think you are, you don’t have to do this. Let me represent you and I promise you won’t spend a day behind bars.”

His laughter filled the room. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve got a gun to your head and you want to cut a deal?”

“Wait, I’ve seen you some place before. Yes, it was—”

Her words were cut short with her skull meeting the butt end of his gun. Before she crumpled to the floor, he wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her over to the couch.

“Shit! Why didn’t I think of that? Of course she’d have a photographic memory.” All of the deviations from his original plans made him uncomfortable.  He sifted his fingers through his hair and paced back and forth, matching each step with a calming breath.

He straightened his stance and went straight to work, binding her hands and feet before taping her big mouth shut. Several minutes later, when her pathetic whimpers reached him, all of his tools sat in perfect order on the coffee table.

He stood behind the couch and watched her struggle against her bindings. She momentarily froze, staring at the items laid out beside her. All of a sudden her ass came up off the sofa, and she maneuvered into a sitting position.

“Now, now, you know I can’t allow that.” He sauntered over, his gun pointed directly at her head. “Lie down.”

She refused.

He stood before her and ran the shaft of his revolver in a straight line from under her chin, down the valley between her heaving breasts. His gaze matched hers. “I said, lie down.”

The first sign of tears pooled in her eyes as she slowly dropped to the side and lifted her legs onto the couch. Her words muffled behind the tape.

Another length of rope served to tie her thighs together. After which he taped her head down and straddled her. The lawyer pleaded with her eyes, tears spilling out and disappearing into her hairline.

“I’m going to take this tape off, so for your own good, keep that big mouth of yours shut.” He ripped the tape off of her face, taking skin from her lips, too. She began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Did you really think you’d get away with it for this long without repercussions? It’s bad enough you helped set free all of those sick fucks back into society, but did you really have to involve her? Do you get off on intimidating people, instilling fear in them?” He picked up a stack of money from the table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about? Involving who?”

“Was it all just for the money?” He wadded up the first bill and stuffed it in her mouth before leaning forward and whispering in her ear.

“Errrrrr...,” she growled in frustration, attempting to free herself.

He proceeded to cram bill after bill in her mouth. “Does it ring any bells now?”

Her body, now wracked in sobs, ceased to fight. Both her wrists and ankles bled from the tape cutting into her flesh.

The lawyers’ gaze was transfixed on the needle he slowly and deliberately twirled between his fingers. Carol Tate no longer struggled against the tape embedded in her deep cuts.

With his free hand, he picked up the tumbler of brandy and brought it to his mouth. The corner of his lips twitched as he held the glass over her wrists, and tipped it. Her body grew rigid beneath him. The amber liquid splashed, mixing with blood red.

Suddenly he caught an image of himself in the mirror above her television.  He shook his head in disgust. Get with the plan or you’re going to screw this one up royally. He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath, setting the glass back on the table and firming his hold on the needle.

The first hole was always the hardest; once he got the feel of the needle pushing through her flesh he’d be fine. Her eyes rolled back into her head, but she would soon be wide awake. He gritted his teeth and pushed the sewing tool through her bottom lip. He was rewarded by her eyes flying open. Her chest heaved, and a muted scream spasmed throughout her body before only the whites of her eyes were visible.

He concentrated on the next stitch, pulling the fishing line taut to secure her lips together. She continued to fade in and out of consciousness while he sewed twenty perfectly spaced stitches, meticulously cleaning the blood from around each hole before sitting back to admire his handiwork.

Carol Tate looked straight ahead, her eyes vacant. He flitted about the room, cleaning and picking up any evidence of his being there.

He took the orchid out of the brandy bottle and returned it to the recycle box. He then placed the stem in her hands.

“You’re not so intimidating now, are you?”

She finally looked directly into his eyes as he moved closer, his fingers slipping beneath the front edges of her housecoat. He had no desire to see her naked body, but he could think of no better way to humiliate her. The material fell away, pooling at the sides of her quivering breasts. Carol squeezed her eyes shut, letting loose a fresh torrent of tears.

The familiar cool metal of his revolver kept him grounded. He assumed the position, standing on the arm of the sofa. He took aim, purposely avoiding her eyes, and squeezed the trigger.

Chapter Ten

Several officers looked up from their desk as their pagers buzzed at the same time. Randy met Becca’s gaze, silently validating a sense of urgency. They quickly weaved their way through a maze of desks to the chief’s office. Tension wafted towards them before they stepped inside to find Chief on the phone, pacing behind his desk.

“We’re on our way!” His shoulders rose and fell as he turned to face them. “He struck again.”

Randy saw the surge of emotion in his partner’s eyes disappear, quickly replaced by no-nonsense. Was it fear, anger...? He couldn’t tell.

Chief shrugged into his jacket. “I’ll fill you in on the way over there. I think it’s best if we take my sedan.”

Becca opened her mouth like she might argue the decision, but replied with a shrug instead.

Randy sat up front with the chief, leaving Becca alone in the back. Since the first time he’d laid eyes on her, she remained constant in his mind. Sometimes thoughts of her came at the most inopportune times throughout the day and in his dreams at night. It wasn’t going to be easy, but if he didn’t reign in his desire for her, his wandering mind might hamper the case, and finding Susan’s killer was just too important to Becca.

“Carol Tate is a high profile defence attorney. It looks like he was waiting in the house and confronted her shortly after she showered.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a disgruntled client?” Becca spoke up.

“Nope, her mouth is sewn shut. We won’t know what’s inside it until she arrives in the morgue.” Chief looked in his rear view mirror. “Our guy left his signature behind. It’s a white orchid.

“What do we know about the victim?” Becca wedged herself between the front seats. “Isn’t she the ball-breaker lawyer who is always in the paper for winning cases for scum bags?”

“That about sums her up.”

Cop cars with flashing lights, an ambulance, and several radio stations reporting live littered the yard and spilled out into the street.

“The neighbor called 911 after seeing a motorcycle back down the driveway.”

“I’m glad we’re not on our bikes.”

Randy opened her door. “Hold up.” He jogged across the lawn where two attendants carried the body bag from the house. Slowly, he unzipped it enough to find the lawyer in the same state as the first five victims—a single gunshot between the eyes, her mouth sewn shut. “Call me once you find out what’s in there.” The silver-haired doctor, who followed the gurney, nodded before taking his leave.

Becca hadn’t moved from the doorway, her face void of expression. The chief entered the house and stood beside her. After a brief exchange of words, she left the house.

Where the hell is she going?

Randy motioned for the chief to join him. “Is Becca okay?”

Chief Thomson arched a brow. “Why wouldn’t she be? I sent her out to talk to the neighbor who called 911.”

Becca welcomed the task that took her out of the house. This makes six. We gotta find this guy and fast.

A tiny, old lady stood at the edge of the driveway holding a sweater closed over her nightgown. Her eyes were a tad too bright as she watched the body being transported to the ambulance.

“Mrs. Miller?” Becca purposely stood in her line of vision. She doesn’t need that image haunting her dreams.

“Yes?” The woman’s forehead wrinkled.

Becca showed her badge. “My name is Detective Talbot. Can we sit up on your porch and talk? Those chairs look pretty comfy.”

Mrs. Miller didn’t hesitate to accept her extended arm. They slowly made their way across the lawn.

“I don’t know what this world’s coming to. A woman isn’t even safe in her own home anymore.”

Becca patted her hand sympathetically. “I promise we’re going to do everything in our power to find this guy.”

The old lady sat in an oversized armchair, and Becca sat beside her.

“Can you tell me what you saw? Why did you call 911?”

“I’ve lived here over twenty years. Carol moved in around six years ago. She was a nice lady who always had a smile for me.” She paused to pull a hanky from her sleeve and dab at her eyes. “Poor soul rarely had visitors, liked to keep to herself like me. So when I saw that guy on his motorcycle, I knew something wasn’t right.”

“Did he do or say anything?”

“Nope. He pushed that big black bike down to the road. He was looking all over the place before he jumped on it a couple of times to start his motorcycle. I’m surprised the noise didn’t wake the neighbourhood.” She sighed. “When I saw a container on his back, I remembered reading the paper about some whacko they were calling The Florist. That’s when I called the authorities.”

He had to kick start the bike. So did the one at the professor’s place.

“Can you describe the case?”

“Oh, you know those round cases architects put their blue prints in, but this one was black. Everything about him was black—black shoes, black rain suit, the case, and even his bike”

“Did you say rain suit?”

“Well, I think that’s what you call them. It was just like the yellow ones we used to call slickers.”

“You’ve been very helpful, Mrs. Miller.” Becca placed her card in the woman’s weathered hand. “If you think of something else, please call me any time. Do you want me to send someone to stay here with you?”

“My son should be here any minute now.” The old woman smiled weakly. “I hope you catch that guy. Be careful dear. I’ll be praying for you.”

He rides old school. Maybe it’s time to talk to a few old friends who might know if there’s a bike like that around town.

Randy stood in the doorway. The second their eyes met, he dropped his gaze and scribbled in his notebook.

Becca scowled. I think I’ll go this one alone.

Chapter Eleven

After spending most of the day inside the precinct, Becca welcomed the diversion her plans afforded her. A little voice in the back of her head kept yelling she shouldn’t be doing this alone. What choice did she have? The way Randy acted of late, and after he totally ignored her all day, she didn’t know whether to trust him or not.

She tucked light-wash jeans into her knee-high leather boots and stood in front of a full-length mirror. Her fringed top matched the same dark tan of her boots. After going a little heavy on the eyeliner, she was good to go. Hopefully I’ll run into one of our old contacts. Maybe one of them has heard or seen something.

On the way out of the house, Becca twisted her unruly red hair and tucked it under her helmet. Her bike, the one thing in her life that had never let her down, sat in the driveway.

On any other night like this she would’ve headed to the lake, revelling in the scent of the water and the wind against her skin. All too soon she arrived at the bar and parked at the end of a row of bikes. A couple of guys were out having a smoke; they stopped talking to watch her take off her helmet. Her curls spilled down her shoulders. She felt them watching her. Not wanting them to think she was on the prowl, she kept looking forward, breathing a sigh of relief once her hand touched the door.

Here goes nothing.

Becca paused just inside the entrance. Once her eyes adjusted to the dark room, she headed to the bar, tuning out a few cat calls and whistles.

“Hey, pretty lady, what can I get you?” The bartender flashed perfect, white teeth.

“I’ll have a rye and ginger, tall glass, lots of ice.” She smiled.

“Coming right up.” A playful wink crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Put it on my tab, Joe.”

Judging by the size of the dark shadow, the guy standing behind her was a big man. Oh great, here we go.

“Thanks, but I buy my own drinks.” Her eyes lit up. “Ben?” She hopped off the stool to be engulfed in Big Ben’s massive arms. “It’s nice to see you. How’ve you been?”

“Not too shabby, l’il girl.” His bushy brows arched. “Are you on or off duty?”

“Technically I’m off, but I’d love to buy you a drink and pick your brain.”

“Honey, lookin’ the way you do, you can pick anything yer little heart desires.”

Becca laughed, happy to have bumped into Ben of all people, a well-respected guy in the biker community, and a good friend of Jack’s.

“Let’s sit at my table.” He ushered her to the back corner of the room. “So how can I help you, Becca?”

“I don’t know if you’ve been following the news or not, but we have a real piece of work out there. He’s killed six people so far and one of them was a family friend.” She swallowed hard before draining half of her drink in one big mouthful.

“I’m really sorry to hear that. Are you talking about the guy who sews people’s mouths shut and leaves a flower behind after he’s killed them?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I’m here because there’s been a new lead on this guy. It seems the killer rides a motorcycle.”

“Shit, are you serious? Thanks for the warning.”

“I’m sure the press will blow it out of proportion—bad-ass bikers and all.”

Ben took a swig of his beer. “So are you saying you think he’s hanging out here?”

She shrugged. “It’s very possible. He’s riding old school, all black, and with a kicker.”

He rubbed his chin. “There’s a few like that around. Is that all you have to go on?”

“That and the guy knows all about floriculture.”

Her friend chuckled, setting his belly in motion. “I’m not exactly a flowery kinda guy.”

“Seriously, Ben, this guy is one sick puppy. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your eyes and ears open for me. Maybe pass the word on? While you’re at it, you might want to warn everyone about receiving even more negative attention than normal.”

“You got it, and thanks for the heads up. Now that that’s out of the way, how have you been holding up?”

Becca shrugged. “Well, I’m back on the force. Too bad it took Susan’s murder for it happen.” She exhaled breathily and shuddered. “I’m doing okay, taking it one day at a time.”

Suddenly her mouth went dry, warning bells ringing in her head as she watched the waitress walk toward them.

“Becca?”

Words failed her.

“This is for you.” She handed Becca a pristine rose the deepest shade of purple she’d ever seen.

Becca jumped to her feet and picked up the rose from her tray. “Who sent it?”

“Joe found it on the bar.”

Her hand trembled as she took the note from the waitress. Becca was scrawled on one side. She flipped it over and time stood still as she read two words: Guess who?

“Show me where you found this.” She plucked a napkin from the tray and closed it around the card.

“What’s going on?” Ben appeared at her side.

“It’s him. The sick fuck left this for me.” Her heart pounded so fast she feared passing out right then and there. She half jogged across the dance floor.

“Hey, Joe, can you show Becca exactly where you found the rose?”

Joe pointed to the end of the bar by the door. “I don’t know how long it sat there. I’ve been busy with customers.”

Becca scurried to the empty space beside a young couple groping each other. They stopped and looked her way.

“Did you two happen to see who left this here?” She felt like she might explode.

“Sorry, when I saw the flower I turned and only saw the back of him walk out the door.”

Shit! He was right here, just a few feet away, and I missed him.

“I’m a police officer. Did you notice anything unusual or did he stand out in some way?”

The couple looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.

“Wait, he had some kind of case on his back. Looked like something you’d keep a telescope in but black. In fact, everything about him was black—black rain suit, black shoes and gloves. He even wore a black biker’s helmet.”

The old lady had said practically the same thing word for word.

“I’m sorry, Ben, but I need to take this to the station.”

“You’re not going anywhere by yourself with that whack job nearby.” He motioned for Joe to pass his helmet from behind the bar. “I’ll ride with you to the station.”

“If you insist.” She had no time to argue, inwardly happy to have him go along.

They got back to the station in record time. Ben put two fingers to his forehead and kept going. Becca mouthed the words “thank you” before practically flying through the precinct to Chief Thomson’s office. It wasn’t until she stood at his door that she realized the time. Luckily, her boss burned the midnight oil on a regular basis.

She burst into the room. His head popped up from the file open on his desk. “Becca? What’s wrong?”

She laid the rose on his desk along with the note in a napkin. She paused to catch her breath.

“I was at the bar tonight, talking to an old friend, when The Florist left this for me.”

Chief Thomson jumped to his feet. “Did you get a look at him?”

“No.” She clenched her jaw, frustrated beyond words.

Her boss read the note and looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “How did he know where you’d be? The psycho must be following you.”

Becca shivered. “I don’t know. I never noticed anyone trailing me nor have I seen anyone suspicious around my house. I’m always aware of other bikes.”

Chief Thomson picked up the phone. “Jerry, I’ve got a card I need printed. Put a rush on it. This is top priority. Send someone over to get it.”

“Can you tell me what you were doing at the bar by yourself?”

“Can’t I go out for a drink on my own time?”

He arched an eyebrow and narrowed his gaze on her.

“Okay, okay. I have a few biker friends and thought I’d ask them to keep an eye open for him.”

“No more, do you hear me? Why didn’t you call me or your partner?”

Becca shrugged. “Listen, I know it was a dumb thing to do. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

“Mike!” Within seconds the officer stood in the doorway. “I want you to follow Becca home and stay parked right out front until I make arrangements for a shadow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Becca wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea but knew there was no way around it. “Can you please call me when you get the results back?”

“You got it, kid. I’ll see you back here first thing in the morning.”

“Come on, Mike. I’ll put on a pot of coffee. I got a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

Chapter Twelve

The aroma of freshly perked coffee wafted toward him. A lazy smile spread across his face as he imagined her reaction to his gift.

It felt good to get a laugh at her expense, knocking her holier-than-thou attitude right out of the park. Next time I want to see her face. What a thrill that will be.

He sat heavily on a bar stool, his smirk fading as he opened the journal and turned it to the book-marked page.

Kevin Baird is one of the angriest men I’ve ever known. Today he told me about his job as a bouncer. To see the pleasure in his eyes while he spoke about beating the crap out of guys was unsettling to put it mildly. Maybe I should stop seeing him, but I fear he’ll unleash that lethal rage on me. I’m a goner if he does.

He picked up the photo and sniffled as he gazed into her expressive hazel eyes. He traced the outline of her face with his finger and then lightly kissed the framed glass.

“No worries, my love. He’ll soon learn he’s not so tough.”

He rubbed his face and yawned, sorely in need of a couple days of rest. A flash of color in the cooler caught his attention and he smiled. The dark purple roses really were exquisite. A pretty flower for a pretty lady.

I need a plan. He frowned. So much for the theory, the first thing to go is your memory. That old lady sang like a canary; she even saw I wore black shoes. Maybe I should pay her a visit. He shuddered.

Finish what you started.

“What was she doing in the bar by herself? She could have called me. Last time I checked I was her partner.” Randy paced. “The guy actually walked into the same room with her? Doesn’t she realize just how sick this s.o.b. is?”

Chief Thomson raised his hand. “Calm down. I won’t have you talking to her like that this morning. Yes, she shouldn’t have gone there alone, but in her defence, she had no reason to fear he’d be following her.”

“So what kind of game is The Florist playing now? Why Becca? Does it have something to do with Susan?”

“I don’t have any answers for you. I do know we can’t lose our focus. The results came back from the coroners. He stuffed money in her mouth, and if my hunch is right, her own money. Her wallet was open in her purse and it was empty.”

“Good morning.” Becca breezed into the room, leaving her fresh, feminine scent behind.

Randy caught her attention, but the second his mouth opened, her hand shot up between them.

“Save it. I was wrong...yadda, yadda. Let’s just drop it, okay?”

He searched her eyes only to have her quickly turn her attention to the chief. She’s got a bug up her ass about something. What the hell did I do to piss her off so badly?

“Did the results come back for the note?”

Chief frowned. “They didn’t find anything, no prints, no DNA... nothing.”

“This Florist is sure one smart guy, I’ll give him that,” Randy said.

“Yes, but he’s bound to slip up sooner or later,” Becca countered, narrowing her gaze on him before sitting.

“So, I did get a warrant. I want a closer look around that acreage, especially after you two heard that bike out there.”

“I hate to do this to Professor Davies. The poor man is such a sweetheart.” Becca sighed.

“Try talking to him first and make him understand someone on his farm might be suspect. Maybe you won’t need the warrant if he gives permission.”

“Okay, I didn’t bring my bike today. How do you want to do this?” Becca gathered her bag and file.

Chief Thomson opened his drawer and tossed a set of keys her way.  “Take the SUV.” He turned to Randy. “You ride your bike. It might come in handy.”

“I don’t want to leave Becca alone.”

The look of surprise on her face confused him. Doesn’t she know how much I care about her?

“Danny will drive Becca.”

She nodded and walked past Randy without a glance. “I’ll see you out there.”

“What did you do to piss her off?” Chief Thomson looked at him sternly. “You might want to clear the air. The sooner, the better.”

“Wow, we got our work cut out for us searching this place.” Danny whistled as he turned down the driveway.

The sprinkler system sprayed in sheets over the fields, casting rainbows all across the vast expanse of color.

“I think we need to focus on the workers first. I hope Professor Davies understands so we don’t have to use this warrant.”

Danny nodded. “Looks like you’re going to find out. I take it that’s him?” He stopped a few feet before the porch.

Professor Davies stood at the top of the staircase leading to an impressive wraparound porch. He leaned against a column, giving them a short wave with his free hand.

“Good morning, sir.” Becca rounded the front of the vehicle, extending her hand. She saw the lines of confusion between his striking blue eyes.

“Well, good morning, Becca.” He took her hand in his and kissed the top before looking over at Danny, who stood with his back to them.

“I’ll introduce my chaperone when he’s done on the phone.” Becca chuckled lightly.

The professor shrugged indifference. “What brings you here so early? I’m sure it’s not just to say hello.”

She smiled warmly. “Please, may we be seated?”

Pain registered on his weathered face as he slowly sat.

“You already know about the killer we’re looking for and how he uses a flower for his signature. There’s been another victim.”

His eyes widened. “I’m sorry to hear it. That makes five?”

“Actually, six. This time he left a white orchid.”

Professor Davies stroked his jaw. “A white orchid represents kindness and truth.  Sometimes it’s sent to someone to inspire compassion or thank them for a random act of goodwill.”

Becca frowned. I can’t imagine the ruthless attorney being any of those things. “Last time we were here I heard a motorcycle being kick-started. We have a witness who saw The Florist leave one of the crime scenes on a motorcycle with a kicker.”

“Let me guess, you think the killer is here?” His looked down his nose at her. “Of course you’re entitled to your suspicions, but I find this very hard to believe. The only motorcycle I’ve heard is yours and his.”

Randy rode up the driveway, followed by two SUVs.

“We’d like your permission to have a closer look around, including the workers’ bunkhouse.”

Professor Davies struggled to his feet, a weary sigh parting his lips. “I’m too old for all of this commotion. Go look wherever you need to. I can’t be a part of it.” His hand covered his heart.

“Of course. Thank you. We’ll try not to be too disruptive.”

He walked to the door. “I hope you find this guy, but forgive me when I say, I hope you don’t find him here.”

With that, the door mysteriously opened and he disappeared into the privacy of his home. Becca hated seeing him in such a fragile state, but they had a job to do. If The Florist did his growing here, they’d find him.

Randy and Becca stood in the driveway with a group of ten officers. All were given a map of the grounds with each building labelled. Randy divided the group into two. He’d lead the one and Becca the other.

“Okay, we have a plan. Let’s stick to the timeline. If anyone uncovers or comes across a red flag, report directly to Randy or me.” She glanced in his direction. “Any questions?”

The same worker who accompanied them on their initial tour arrived. Jacob smiled and jumped off his jeep-like truck. “Good morning. The boss called me. I have a couple of Mules for you to use while you’re here today. I’ll take two drivers with me to pick them up and bring them back here.”

“Rick and...Danny? Where’s Danny?” Randy looked over his shoulder.

“Ah, he got a call and needed to return to the station right away.” Rick shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Randy levelled a hand above his eyes to block the sun. “Okay, well this is Jacob, the head honcho around here. You can pick another officer to go with him now, please.”

Rick sprung to action, tapping the back of the nearest officer to join him on the back of the Mule.

Jacob eased in behind the wheel. “I’ll be around. If you need anything, just ask.” He slipped his vehicle into gear.

“Thank you, Jacob.” Becca smiled. Could Jacob be The Florist? He sure knows his flowers, but every account of the killer’s appearance has him pegged tall and slender, not short and stocky like Jacob is.

The drivers returned quickly and split into teams. Becca stood up in the passenger seat next to the driver. “Please, try to be respectful of the professor’s property today. We didn’t need the search warrant, and we’d like to keep our relationship with the man amicable.” She sat and raised her arm. “Let’s do this thing!”

Chapter Thirteen

Enough is enough! Whatever was going on with Becca, he needed to get to the bottom of it and he needed to do it now.  Luckily, he didn’t have to look very far. He stepped outside the mess hall where they were interviewing the workers and found her standing in the middle of the roadway, looking up and down the row of greenhouses.

“See anything interesting?” He walked toward her.

Becca startled, spinning on her heel to face him. “Nothing yet.” She stepped around him.

Randy touched her arm. “I think we need to talk.”

“Oh, do you now? When did you decide this?” Her eyes blazed with anger.

He flinched. “What the hell are you so pissed off about?”

“It’s okay for you to shut down, avoid me, give me the silent treatment, but it’s not okay for me?”

“Becca, you don’t understand.” Randy reached for her hand, struggling with the desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her senseless.

She waved his hand away. “Save it. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a killer out there—a sick bastard who killed my sister.”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten. Give me a chance to explain.”

“Becca.” Rick called from the doorway. “Can you look at something for me?”

With her gaze trained on him, she walked away. “I’d be happy to.”

He kicked at the dirt road and watched her disappear through the doorway. Wow! I didn’t see that coming. He raked his fingers through his hair. Somehow he’d make her understand, but it would have to wait. They were almost done with the interviews and so far it hadn’t uncovered anything that might lead them to The Florist.

“Is everything okay?” Jacob pulled up beside him.

“Oh, yah.” Heat warmed his cheeks. “I guess my mind is someplace else.”

Jacob looked to the empty doorway. “I can see that.”

Randy quickly changed the subject.  “We’re almost done with your boys. Is it alright if we take a look in their bunkhouse next?”

“Sure. That’s not a problem.”

“I meant to ask after we left here the last time, but did you happen to see or hear that bike again?”

“Nope, I even asked around a bit with no luck.”

Randy patted his back. “Thanks for all of your help. We’ll try to wrap this up as soon as possible.”

He clamped a gloved hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. It seemed almost criminal to be in such a good mood. Get it together. This could be your biggest challenge yet. He smirked, patting his pocket for the umpteenth time. Thank God for my secret weapon. A tremor of anticipation brought actual goose bumps to his skin as he went over a mental checklist.

After a quick look up the road, he made his move and reached up to give the light bulb a turn. The doorbell pierced the still of night. He knew it wasn’t loud enough to alert a neighbour, but he still held his breath. He firmed his hold on the package in his hands. A cellophane-wrapped flower simply wouldn’t cut it with this guy.

Only a few seconds passed before he was rewarded by a string of curse words and the light switch flickering on and off several times. The door opened with the chain intact.

“Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t interested.”

“I have a delivery for a Mr. Kevin Baird. I’ll need a signature, sir.”

“It’s kind of late for a delivery, don’t you think?” Kevin grumbled, closing the door to unhook the chain.

A bear of a man stood in the doorway with one hand remaining on the door. His dishevelled appearance gave him a cave man air. In the same instant Kevin took the package from him, he pulled out his gun and pressed it against the guy’s temple.

“Step back into the house nice and slow or I’ll blow your fucking head off your shoulders right here.”

“What the f...? Are you fucking nuts?”

“Step back,” He snarled “Now!”

“Whoa, easy does it, I’m moving.”

The door barely closed behind them before Kevin threw the box at him, momentarily knocking him off balance. When he looked up, his adversary smacked a baseball bat against his open palm.

Amused, he chuckled. “Nice move, big guy. I’ll give you to the count of three to put that toy down. You don’t seriously believe you have a hope in Hell of using that on me, do you?”

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but you better pray I don’t get my hands on you, because I’ll rip your fucking head off if I do.”

He smirked. “One...two...three....”

The click of his gun filled the space between them, followed closely by the thud of the bat hitting the floor. Each step he took toward his victim, Kevin Baird took one back until his calves hit the sofa. With lightning speed, he took the secret weapon from his pocket and plunged the syringe into Kevin’s upper thigh. The sudden move knocked the guy backwards on the couch like a tree being felled.

“Ahh...what the hell?”

His laughter bounced off the walls. “Just a little neuromuscular blocking drug, but don’t worry, you won’t miss out. You’ll see and feel every little thing that is about to happen.” He put his face close to his. “You just won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.”

Kevin’s eyes grew bright. “You’re The Flor....” His facial muscles froze in mid-sentence.

“Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners?” He took the big man’s hand in his and pumped it twice. “Yes, I am The Florist. Nice to meet you.”

He took out rope and duct tape from his pack and held them up. “Not that you’ll be giving me a hard time, will you?” He pinched his victim’s cheek hard and then slapped his face, moving his head from side to side. “Good boy, I didn’t think so.”

The journal in his hands brought him comfort. “How about I read a little before we get this party started?”

Kevin seems to enjoy the fear he instills in me by going over every detail of his job as bouncer and how he bashes skulls. I can see the rage in his eyes, which is almost lethal. I fear for the day he turns his anger on me.

The only drawback to drugging him was not being able to see his reaction when he put two and two together and figured out the reason he was there. Oh well, I’ll just have to be happy he hears every word I say. He put his lips to the big man’s ear and whispered her name.  “There, now you know.”

By the time they stepped out of the last hot house, the sun had begun its descent behind the buildings. A frustratingly long day turned up nothing. The men were all sweaty and tired and undoubtedly just as disappointed as Becca was.

“Thank you for all of your hard work. Let’s call it a night.” Randy rubbed his neck.

Becca walked up the road with Rick and several officers. “I would have bet money we’d find something to lead us to him here.”

The officer blew out a long breath which lifted his blond bangs. “He’s bound to slip up.”

“I wonder how many more lives he’ll take before that happens?”

Her question didn’t warrant a response. She just said aloud what was on the mind of ever man involved today. Thankfully they left before Randy had the opportunity to face off with her again. She definitely wasn’t in the mood for that.

They drove toward the city in silence.

“Before you take the boys back to the shop drop me off at home first.” She suppressed a yawn.

“No way. I don’t think the chief will like that idea too much.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a cop. I think I can take care of myself until you come back. It’ll give me a chance to grab a quick shower.”

“Okay, I don’t like it, but I’ll be back in ten or fifteen minutes tops.”

Becca climbed down from the truck and waved to the crew in the back. “Thanks. See you in a few.”

She felt for her gun before trudging up the driveway. I feel like we took ten giant steps backwards. Before going inside she unlocked the garage door and flicked on the light to find her baby shining in all her chrome glory. She nodded decidedly and turned off the light and went into the house.

Each room came to life in a flood of lights as she worked her way through her place. “Shit!” Becca pulled out her gun and cocked it.

On her pillow laid another perfect purple rose, but no note. He didn’t need one. Becca knew exactly who left it on her bed. Her heart hammered against her rib cage. The bastard was in my house. She hunkered down with her gun raised, both hands holding it steady as she retraced her steps back to the kitchen. With her back up against the wall, she took a couple of deep, steadying breaths and closed her eyes.

Footsteps on the back landing set her heart racing. She slid along the wall and took aim. The click of the door prompted her to jump out. “I’ve got a gun. Put your hands up where I can see them.”

“Whoa there, Becca, it’s me, Rick.”

Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Holy crap, you scared the shit out of me.” She blinked back the threat of tears.

“What’s with the gun?”

“Our killer left me another gift. The son-of-a-bitch was in my house.”

Rick’s stature grew rigid. “We better call it in.”

Becca opened her mouth to protest but thought better of it. She’d already set herself up for a good scolding. “I’m so sorry, Rick. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

He shrugged. “I can take it.  You’re okay, that’s all that really matters.” He winked and keyed in the number.

Why do I always resist protocol? First the bar and now this? She gritted her teeth. Boy am I in for a blast.

Chapter Fourteen

“What were you thinking, Becca?” Randy paced her kitchen floor.

She hated being the reason for his anger, but she never asked for him to come. He just happened to be with Chief Thomson when he’d gotten the call.

A couple of girls from the lab were dusting for prints, despite everyone knowing they’d come up empty. They found no sign of forced entry, and that bothered her the most. Does he have a key? Maybe he’s a jack of all trades and knows how to pick a lock without leaving a scratch.

Regardless, Randy ranting and raving like this wasn’t helping matters. In fact, just the opposite—he was pissing her off.

“Do you know how bad this could’ve ended if that sick fuck was still here, waiting for you to walk into your bedroom?”

The genuine concern in his eyes confused her. You’re the epitome of contradictions.

“Scolding me like a two year old isn’t going to find this guy any faster.” Becca stood toe to toe with him. “So, if you’re almost done, can we please figure out what to do next?”

Randy took her hand in his. “Becca....”

Her cell phone buzzed, and she took a step back, removing her hand from his. “Hello?”

“Becca, he struck again.”

The chief’s words chilled the heated exchange between her and Randy. She dropped back to sit on the chair. “The Florist?”

“I’m afraid so. I’m sending an officer to pick you and Randy up. Have Rick stay with the lab techs until they’re done.”

Becca looked at her phone in disbelief as she set it on the table. No words needed to be exchanged.

Randy punched the countertop. “Dammit!”

In a matter of minutes, Jerry arrived. Randy sat up front and she was left in the back again. This time she welcomed the reprieve the darkness afforded her. Seeing another one of the victims wasn’t on the top of bucket list. Every crime scene opened the wound from Susan’s death. Thank God I didn’t see her. The pictures were bad enough.

She looked up to flashing lights and the SUV now parked in the midst of all the commotion. Every house on the street was lit up like a Christmas tree. Not long ago they’d all been tucked safely in their beds while their neighbour’s life ended in the cruelest of ways.

Chief Thomson stood on the front lawn, his massive arms folded across his broad chest. “Well, this time he added a couple twists.”

They walked across the lawn toward the house. “For the first time, he left behind the box and it appears he drugged the guy.”

“Any idea what kind of drug?” asked Jerry. He stepped up and held the front door open for them.

Chief shrugged. “I’m guessing some kind of nerve-blocking substance.”

The guy on the couch was enormous, even bigger than Big Ben. The tattoos on his muscular arms told of visits to the state pen. The added twist of using a blocker made perfect sense. No way would The Florist be able to subdue him on his own.

The coroner joined them, clipboard in hand. “He’s been dead less than an hour. It looks like he was injected with a neuromuscular-blocking drug, but I can’t be certain until I run some tests. I’ll bet my paycheck Mr. Baird spent his final hour watching and feeling his mouth being sewn shut.” He half-turned to the corpse. “If you look closely you’ll see this time there is twice the number of stitches woven tightly together. Our Florist took his time with this one.”

“I think the sicko is starting to enjoy his work far too much.” Chief rubbed his stubbly jaw.

Becca looked at the light purple corsage on the victim’s wrist. “What kind of flowers are they?”

“Asters.” Jerry crouched next to the discarded box. “Why did he leave the box behind this time?”

Randy traced the delicate petals with a gloved finger. “What’s with the change to a box in the first place?”

“I’m sure it has to do with the kind of guy Kevin is, I mean was. I don’t think he would’ve opened the door to a guy holding a flower in his hands.”

“Jerry, go clear a path to the coroner’s wagon.”

The officer nodded and went straight outside.

“Who called it in?” Randy left the body and now stood beside Becca.

“An anonymous call from a disposable phone,” replied Chief Thomson.

Becca surveyed the room. There really wasn’t much for them to do. The forensic team would clear the house once the corpse had been removed. It took four guys to lift Kevin onto a gurney. A dark stain on his jeans revealed how he’d peed his pants.

She shuddered. What a way to go.

Randy laid her jacket over her shoulders and ushered her from the house. “Here, you look cold.”

She moved to shrug the jacket off only to be stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

“Take the jacket, Becca. We need to talk.”

She stepped forward, and he blocked her path. “We’re going to talk now. Your choice—here or back at your place.”

Becca sighed. “If I have this talk with you, will you please leave me alone?”

“If you feel the same way after we talk, yes, I’ll leave you alone.”

“We can talk at my place.”

Randy put a finger under her chin and looked deep into her eyes.

“Thank you.”

It was a bold move on his part, but he couldn’t resist—just like he couldn’t resist fucking with Detective Talbot’s mind a little. He quickly hid a smile behind his hand. He blended right in with the TV crews and officers littering the front lawn. Even if they noticed him they wouldn’t question why he was there.

A shiver ran up his spine, and he briefly closed his eyes to savor the moment. Mmm. It excited him to be this close to them undetected. Those dumb asses don’t have a frickin’ clue.

He stifled the urge to laugh as he savored the memory of the detective stepping out of the shower, each of her tattoos emblazoned in his memory.

I can’t let her get in the way. I’ve come too far to let a nosy detective ruin everything.

She’s definitely trouble.

An unnecessary distraction.

A distraction that needs to be eliminated.

Chapter Fifteen

Becca hadn’t been on the back of a bike in at least ten years. Randy conveniently left out the part of riding back to her place. She’d never admit to him how good the breeze felt on her face. One of the advantages of being the passenger was the freedom to enjoy the ride with no distractions.

It didn’t take long before she gave into the governing impulse to stretch out her arms and close her eyes. She didn’t care if he saw or not. It had nothing to do with him and everything to do with letting the wind work its magic and carry all of her troubles in the breeze, if only for a little while.

All too soon Randy geared down, dragging her back to reality as he turned into her driveway. Feeling vulnerable, she climbed off and gave him his helmet the second his feet hit the ground

“Can you open the garage door?  It’s probably best if my ride isn’t visible from the road.”

Her brow creased. “I think it will be okay there. You won’t be staying very long.”

She imagined his eyes boring holes in her back on the way up to unlock the door.

Randy nudged her aside. “Let me take a look first.” He planted his feet firmly, not budging one inch no matter how hard she tried to push him out of the way.

“For your information, I’m quite capable of opening my door.”

Randy took hold of her arms and stared directly into her eyes. “I know you are. Just humor me this one time.”

Becca stepped back. “Knock yourself out!”

“You stay right here.”

Who died and voted you Cop of the Year? Becca followed him into the house and proceeded to put on some coffee. Where does he get off bossing me around in my own home?

“Wow, you’re such a good listener.” Randy stepped through the doorway, holstering his gun.

Becca spun around and jabbed a finger at his chest. “Do not talk to me like I’m a two year old. If this is how things are going to go, you can leave right now.”

He raised his hands in defense. “Whoa, chill out. I didn’t mean to talk down to you. I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“I’ve been a cop for almost twenty years. I think I can take care of myself.” She glared at him.

Randy made a T with his hands. “Time out...okay? Can we have a talk without all of this anger and bullshit?”

She leaned back against the counter, resisting the urge to throw herself at him and let him kiss it all better. Defiantly, she folded her arms across her chest. “It’s your dime. Talk, I’m listening.”

Her partner blew out a rush of air and sat at the table. “Come sit with me.” He pulled out the chair next to him.

She huffed and stomped to the opposite side of the table and sat. “I’m all ears.”

Randy chuckled and looked sideways at her. “You know, you can be a real bitch when you want to be.”

Becca tossed her head back. “Hah! That’s a good start. If you want me to sit here quietly, you might want to shove your idea of compliments up your ass.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and a slow smile spread across his tanned face. “I guess I should start with an apology. I probably could’ve handled things better than I have been.”

She cast him a sideways glance. “Ya think?”

The coffeemaker let out its final gurgles, and she jumped up, happy for the break to regain some semblance of composure. Steam rose from the mug she set on the table.

“Black, right?”

His strong hands engulfed the mug. “Thank you. You remembered.”

Becca kept her gaze diverted and sipped her coffee, mindful of the temperature and the sultry tone of his voice. “So, are you going to tell me why you were acting like such a jerk, or are we going to play a round of Twenty Questions?”

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you. One minute I want to strangle you, and the next, I want to take you in my arms and never let you go.”

Shit, I never saw this coming.

She felt like a caged animal with no means of escape. Both of them stood at the same time.

“Don’t.” Her hand shot up between them to halt his advances. “I can’t do this right now. I need to find Susan’s killer. I can’t.... No, I won’t be distracted by you and your childish mind games. One minute you’re seducing me, and the next you won’t even glance my way. ” Becca looked into his big brown eyes. “I think it’s best if you leave now.”

Randy pulled her into his arms, backing her up and wedging her in the corner of the cupboards with no way out.

“Let me go—”

His mouth captured hers in a long, drugging kiss. After a couple lame attempts to get away, she relaxed in his arms, and gave in to the whirlwind of emotions she tried so hard to contain.

Suddenly he scooped her up and cradled her in his arms. The intensity in his eyes robbed her of breath. She knew full well the direction they were headed.

“I can’t make any promises.” Her words came out nothing more than a whisper.

“I’m not asking for any, Red.” He carried her through the kitchen toward the bedroom. His lips claimed hers once again, but this time she offered no resistance.

Chapter Sixteen

Click. Click. Click. His boots snapped against the cement as he paced the room. Thoroughly pissed off at himself for tainting the thrill of being at his crime scene.

“Idiot! Why did you have to leave the box behind? How could you be so stupid?”

The skin on his neck pulled taut. He yanked open the cooler and grabbed a fistful of asters, pulling the heads off and scattering the pale purple petals into the air. He twisted the stems, over and over until they pulled apart and threw them on the ground. The cement turned green under his boot grinding them into the floor.

Calm yourself.

Two words whispered in his ear ended his tirade and drew him to the counter where he picked up the silver frame and smiled down at her.

“I’m sorry, dear heart. I know you don’t like it when I lose my temper. I wanted everything to be perfect for you, and it almost was.”

His heavy sigh steamed the glass as he pressed his lips to the smiling woman’s forehead. Reverently, he set it back, face down.

A hiss of air escaped the barstool he sat on. He wiped his sweaty face on his shirtsleeve. “Look at this mess.”

Dark purple roses caught his attention. He wrinkled his brow. “Of course, it’s her fault distracting me like that. She’s been nothing but a pain in my ass since she came back to work.”

Before then he wasn’t the least bit worried they’d solve the mystery of The Florist. Now that they put the dynamic duo together he had to admit he thoroughly enjoyed baffling Ms. Hoity Toity.

The scent of lemons wafted up from the wash basin he filled. Some of his best thinking happened when cleaning. Now, what is my next move? He’d completed what he’d set out to do. All seven of his victims were carefully picked, each encounter meticulously planned down to the minutest detail over the past year. To pick another virtual stranger from the journal meant taking a huge risk he’d overlook something or slip up somehow.

He sat back on his heels and dropped the scrub brush in the water.

It really is a shame to stop just when I’m getting so good at it.

He snapped his head up and rubbed his damp hands on his jeans. A smile twisted his lips.

“Unless...”

Randy settled in his seat and stretched his legs out, resting his boot on his highway pegs. The crisp morning breeze off the water, coupled with a flashback of Becca in bed, her long red hair fanned out across the pillow, brought a smile to his face.

They gave themselves to each other in unabashed abandon, blocking all the ugliness and heartache The Florist brought to their lives. Never in his life had he felt so connected to a woman. They shared an unspoken language only their bodies could decipher.

Any attempt to sleep once he got back to his place proved futile, so he showered and climbed on his bike. The wind had a way of soothing his soul like nothing else could, and as much as he wished to keep going, they had a killer to catch. He turned from the country road toward the precinct.

Less than twenty minutes later he flicked on the light, illuminating the morbid smiles of The Florist’s victims on the seven boards at the front of the meeting room. He set his files on the table and hurried to put some coffee on.

Chief Thomson stepped through the doorway, coffee in hand. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Chief.” Randy propped himself on the edge of a table. “Are results in from last night?”

“The others should be here any time now. Let’s wait until they arrive so I’m not repeating myself.” He sat at a table nearest the boards and opened a file. “Here, put these up on the empty board at the end.”

Randy took several photographs from him. Like all of the others, there was a picture of Kevin Baird pre-murder, and half a dozen taken at the crime scene.

Her voice carried in the room before he saw her, setting his pulse racing. Randy braced himself and turned, almost knocking her over. “Well, hello.”

Becca stood less than a foot away with her hand out. She stared intently into his eyes. “Work first?”

He narrowed his gaze on her, trying to figure out her intentions. He gave her a nod. “Okay. Play later?”

She smiled. “Let’s find this guy.”

“That sounds like a plan to me.”

Chief took his glasses off to rub his eyes. Once everyone was seated he raised his hand to silence everyone.

“I’m sure you’re all tired and frustrated. This guy has taken down seven people, and we’re no closer to finding him than we were on day one.” He walked down the row of boards, hitting each one. “Sandra Bedows, Derek Masters, Carol Tate, Lori Davis, Susan White, Jeffery Dunn, and last night, Kevin Baird.

He sighed wearily. “Randy, what do we know about these people.”

Randy pushed back from the table and walked to the first board, his notebook open. “Sandra Bedows, twenty-six years old, single. She lived on a disability pension due to being morbidly obese.”

Randy turned a page.

“Derek Masters, thirty-two years old, also single. He was an orderly until five years ago when he was let go for being a Peeping Tom.”

“Carol Tate, forty-seven years old, never married. At twenty-six years of age she murdered her plastic surgeon for ruining her face. She served ten years of a fifteen-year sentence.”

Randy stopped at Susan’s board and looked directly at Becca, who nodded her consent for him to continue.

“Susan White, sixty years old, single. She was a retired nurse’s aide.”

He turned his back to the boards before continuing. “Lori Davies, lawyer. Jeffery Dunn, computer tech, and Kevin Baird, a bouncer and ex-con.”

Randy snapped his notebook closed. “We know all seven victims came from very different walks of life. In fact, the only commonality is, they were all single. Hardly a reason for The Florist to kill them the way he did.” He returned to his seat.

Chief Thomson returned to the front of the room. “It’s obvious The Florist did his homework on all of his victims. He most probably watched them for quite some time before making a move. Given how quickly he’s carried off these murders, he had a pretty precise plan of action.

“It wasn’t like he typed in ‘potential victims who are single’ in the search bar and a magic list of only seven single people popped up. No, we’re missing a piece of the puzzle. There has to be a connection.”

He slapped the file down on the table. “I want all of you on this. I can’t stress enough how time is of the essence. I want this bastard found before he strikes again.”

Chapter Seventeen

A pile of wadded-up pages lay on the floor beside him, his head resting on his hand while he stared off into space. All through the night he’d wrestled with who his next victim would be. Now that I know, why is this still so hard?

Using the drug on Kevin Baird added a new element of satisfaction, but he only purchased enough for the one time, and the dealer had come to him. I need to get my hands on another dose, but how? He made the drug deal a year ahead of his killing spree. Am I setting myself up to get caught if I venture into that part of town? He didn’t exactly blend in with the street people. In fact, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

I can wear a disguise. His excitement mounted at the prospect.  How am I going to pull this off without looking like an amateur? It’s not like wearing a Halloween costume where everybody knows you’re wearing one. If any of those guys suspect I’m not the real deal... He needed it done by a professional, one of those fancy make-up artists used on television.

Where the hell am I going to find one of those? He shrugged. Maybe... From the drawer he pulled out the thick Yellow Pages and flipped through them. It’s a long shot.

Costumes...nothing but retail outlets.

Make up...a kazillion listings for women’s makeup.

Frustrated, he shoved the book back in the drawer and shut it with a bang.

He opened his laptop and turned it on, typing in ‘makeup artist for hire’ in the search bar. In seconds, a list of artists from all over the world filled the screen. He refined his search to locations and hit enter.

The corner of his mouth lifted, and he clicked his cursor on the first link. His eyes scanned the page and found the address.

Perfect.

Becca picked up the phone on her desk. “Polly, its Becca.”

“Hello there, what can I do you for?”

The girl’s strange attempts at humor were highly infectious. “How far back did you go when you searched their phone records for a connection between the victims?”

“Chief Thomson instructed me to go back five years. Why do you ask?”

“How much trouble would it be to go back even further?”

“No trouble. A little bit of time, but no trouble. How far back do you want to go?”

“Ten years. Can you do it?”

Polly chuckled. “Of course I can. I’ll give you a shout when I’m done.”

“Polly?”

“Yes?”

“Can this be a priority?”

“Sure. Does the chief know about this?”

“Not yet, but I’m on my way to fill him in.”

“Good. I’ll talk to you sometime this afternoon.”

“You’re a doll. Thanks, Polly.”

Her response came in the clicking of nails hitting the keys before disconnecting.  She really is a doll, in a strange kind of way. Becca leaned back in her chair and stretched out her legs.

What about the objects in their mouths? Were they random, or did he have a reason for using those specifically?

Sandra Bedows, a morbidly obese woman. How did the birthday cake factor into the equation? Is it a specific birthday cake? Did something happen at a birthday party?

Becca covered her mouth and yawned.

The only thing I seem to be uncovering is more questions.

She couldn’t shake the feeling there was something she’d overlooked. She scanned the open files in front of her.

What can it be?

“Becca?”

She looked up from a patchwork of strategically placed files to find Polly in the doorway. Pink extensions added to her jet black hair, wearing a t-shirt that read, Happiness is Yelling Bingo.

“I think I found something.”

“Come sit.” Becca nudged the chair next to her with a foot. “What did you find?”

“I went back ten years like you asked, and I think I have your missing link.”

Becca’s heart raced in expectation. “Tell me.”

“They all shared the same psychiatrist at one time or other.”

Her jaw dropped. She vaguely remembered her sister mentioning Susan went to a shrink after some trouble at work. “What is the doctors’ name?”

“Pauline Knills-Davies.”

Becca’s mind scrambled for the connection. Why does that name sound so familiar? “Where’s her office?”

“I’m afraid we’re too late. She died five years ago, massive heart failure, right in her office at St. Helen’s.”

“St. Helen’s? That’s where Darla and Susan worked.” Becca sat at the edge of her chair. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

“Maybe because her husband is Professor Olsen Davies.”

Her jaw dropped. “The professor? What the hell is going on?”

“Sorry, that’s all I could find out. I thought you’d want to know right away. Here’s the file, including her scheduled appointments.”

Polly rested a hand on her shoulder. “Becca?”

She blinked rapidly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I zoned out for a minute. Do you know if the chief is still here?”

“I thought I saw him head toward the exit earlier. Randy’s still in his office.” She cracked her gum. “If you’re done with me, I have a date for Bingo. I’ll have my phone with me if anything comes up and you need me.”

“Thanks, Polly. I hope you win the jackpot!”

The quirky analyst guffawed. “I won’t quit my job quite yet. Toodles!”

Becca flipped through the pages in the file. Yup, there it is... She underlined the words with her fingertip: husband, Professor Olsen Davies. Her first instinct was to take a run out and have a chat with the professor, but that wouldn’t go over well with the chief. She sighed and pushed away from her desk.

I guess I don’t have much of a choice.

Her heels clicked on the tile floor. Dead man walking... Why did the line from the movie Green Mile come to mind? She shrugged.

“Hey, you.” Becca strode into the meeting room. “We’ve uncovered a pretty interesting link between the victims.”

Randy tossed his pen on a stack of papers in front of him. “Oh, really? You have my attention.”

“I asked Polly to go back a little further in all of the victims’ pasts in hopes of finding something.” She slapped the file down on the table. “They all shared the same shrink at one time or other.”

“Really? Where might we find this shrink?”

“Unfortunately she died five years ago.”

“Man, we can’t catch a break in this case.”

“Not necessarily, we know her husband.”

Randy punched her on the arm playfully. “Come on, enough already.”

“Professor Davies. His wife, Pauline Knills-Davies, died of a massive heart attack in her office at St. Helen’s.”

“Wow, no shit, eh?”

“Yup, the same hospital my sister and Susan worked at. All seven of the victims were a patient of hers at some point.”

“I guess we need to pay the professor another visit.”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s a little late to be visiting the old guy now.”

“I guess so. How about we meet with the chief first thing in the morning? We can fill him in and take it from there.”

Becca gasped and put her hand over her heart as she staggered back against the wall. “Are you suggesting we do things by the book?”

He chuckled and opened the file. “It can’t possibly be just a coincidence, can it?”

“I don’t know. We checked out everyone who works on the farm, and the professor is hardly in any shape to be kicking over a motorcycle and murdering seven people.”

His pen tapped against a stack of papers. “Something doesn’t add up, but I’d bet anything the answer is out there.” He stroked his stubbly jaw.

“Maybe after a good night’s sleep it will all come together.” Becca stretched out her arms cattishly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I guess fluffing your pillow is out of the question?”

Becca stopped in the doorway and looked back at him, fluttering her eyelashes. “I’ll take a rain check, okay?”

“You don’t play fair.” He watched her leave, shifting in his chair to accommodate his reaction to the swing of her hips. It was nice to see her less guarded, more herself.

We need to solve this case. The sooner the better.

With this new discovery, sleep would definitely elude him. He opened his laptop.  Let’s see what I can find out about the good doctor.

Chapter Eighteen

The sky darkened with each click of the odometer. A somber silence filled the SUV, everyone lost in their thoughts.

Becca wasn’t looking forward to searching the professor’s home and hoped he didn’t take it personally.  “What exactly are we looking for?”

“I guess we’ll know when we see it. Something, anything that might fill in the blanks and lead us to the killer.” Randy glanced back at her. “Are you going to be okay with this?”

Becca shrugged. “Yes. I’m not crazy about doing this to him, but I’m okay.”

“Try not to worry, Becca. He’s a smart man and he’ll understand why we have to do this search.” Chief turned down the long driveway to the house.

A crack of thunder preceded torrents of rain.

Maybe it’s a sign we shouldn’t be doing this. She nibbled on her bottom lip.

The short distance from the vehicle to the porch drenched them. She couldn’t remember the last time it rained this hard. Thank God we’re not riding in this.

The same woman they met on their first visit greeted them. “Come in out of the rain.” Mable closed the door behind them. “Let me get you some towels, I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.” Becca smoothed her wet hair, knowing all too well the funky things rain did to it. Once they were towel-dried, the housekeeper ushered them into the library. Ten-foot walls flanked rich mahogany shelves, brimming with books. Hopefully it wouldn’t come down to going through this room. The professor obviously took great pride in his collection.

Several minutes passed before they were served mugs of hot coffee, and the professor arrived, this time with the aid of a walker. Pain etched tiny lines around his eyes. Grayness tainted his normally flushed complexion.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. This damp weather isn’t kind to these old bones of mine.” The professor shuffled across the room to sit in a leather chair behind his desk. “I’m a little confused why you’re here again. I thought you searched everywhere.”

“Yes, we did, but we never searched your house, sir.” Chief sat at the edge of his chair. “There have been a few interesting developments we need to talk to you about.”

The professor steepled his hands under his chin. “Please, go on.”

He sat quietly while the chief told him about his wife’s connection to the victims, coupled with the flowers. “Do you see why we had to come back?”

His weary sigh filled the room. “Maybe I can save you some time. What exactly are you looking for?”

Randy stood. “I wish it were that cut and dried. I guess we’re looking for a connection between your wife’s patients and whoever killed them.”

“I can’t think of anything you might find here to solve your mystery.” He struggled to stand. “I’m going out to the sunroom. I don’t have the energy to deal with all of this.” He waved a hand over his vast collection of books. “There’s hundreds of thousands of dollars accrued here. Please be gentle.”

Becca rushed to his side. “Let me walk with you.”

The old man smiled weakly and began a slow, painful exit. Once they reached the sunroom she made sure he was seated comfortably before pulling a deck chair beside him.

“Did your wife ever talk about her cases with you?”

“Pauline had a steadfast rule never to bring work home with her.” His voice cracked. “It wasn’t until after she passed that I came to know just how deeply her patients affected her.”

“How so?”  She hated pushing him, but he might know something helpful and not even realize it.

“Every night after work, she closed herself in her sitting room to write in a journal.” He coughed into his hand, his pale blue eyes misting. “My wife’s death was one of the darkest times in my life. Night after night, I wandered through this house lost and heartbroken. I usually passed her sitting room, but never strong enough to venture inside. A year went by before I found the courage to visit her there.”

Professor pulled tissues from a brightly colored box and dabbed at the dampness under his eyes. Becca wasn’t sure how to console him so she simply laid her hand atop his and remained quiet.

“I stepped into her room and the sheer magnitude of her lingering presence had me stumbling back out into the hall. Inside, everywhere I looked, there she was. A display of photos on a side table, her clothes hanging in the closet, and her robe draped over the back of a settee.” The muscles of his neck flexed. “I remember sitting in her chair, the scent of her perfume still lingering. The drawer sat ajar, just enough to catch a glimpse of her book. I bet I sat for an hour or more with it on my lap, my palm flat against its cover.”

Becca noted the toll his memories were taking on him. “Perhaps we can finish this talk later. I’m sorry to bring up such painful memories.”

Professor Davies looked into her eyes. “Not to worry. You’re like a breath of fresh air in my life. I’m sure your team will want to hear about the journal, and I trust you to keep some of the more personal details of our conversation between us.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

The professor nodded his consent.

“The killer has left me a flower a couple of times now. Do you know the significance of a purple rose?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Purple roses primarily stand for enchantment.”

“Enchantment? Are you saying he’s in love with me?”

He shrugged. “That is one definition, but from what you’ve told me, I tend to lean toward another interpretation. The Florist is infatuated with you. As hard as he tries he cannot resist you. He might even believe you’ve cast a spell on him. However, I don’t think it’s sexual in any way. The Florist has probably never met a woman quite like you. I’d bet money his attraction to you is more of an obsession.”

“Isn’t that wonderful.” She rolled her eyes, feeling ill and disgusted. “Thank you for all of your help. I’ve grown very fond of you, so I hope we can remain friends after this whole sordid affair is over.”

The man nodded slightly before he rested his head against the back of his chair and briefly closed his eyes. “Nothing could have prepared me for what I read on those pages. She never let on how deeply her patients affected her. I only read the first couple of entries and had to stop. Her patients were very sick individuals. So much so, much of her time at work was spent fearing for her life.” His grief-stricken eyes searched hers. “Why didn’t I see it?” His voice cracked.

“I’m sure she didn’t want to bring her fear into this house. I believe your wife loved you very much and wrote in her diary every night to get the remnants of the day out of her head. She wanted to offer you all of her love without the ugliness of the day interfering.”

Professor blinked back the tears in his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Where is this journal now?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m positive I put it back in her drawer, but it wasn’t there a few weeks later when I went to read more.”

“When was this?”

“At least four years ago, maybe more.”

“Weren’t you curious to know what happened to it?”

“I saw it as a sign from my wife not to read any further.”

She rubbed the top of his hand, knowing all too well how a grieving mind can twist reality. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I’m sure you’re right in thinking that.”

He smiled. “Your job shows the ugly side of mankind, as did my sweet Pauline’s. Don’t let it get the best of you.”

Becca envied the love he and his wife shared and couldn’t imagine the profound loss of being left behind. The caretaker arrived with tea just as she was leaving.

“Hey, there you are.” Randy descended the grand staircase. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m good.” The rain had stopped and she now squinted against the sun shining into the foyer. “Tell everyone to keep their eyes open for his wife’s journal. Apparently she sat in her sitting room and wrote in it every night. It went missing over four years ago. There might even be a small collection of them.”

“Listen, I’m going to step outside for a breath of fresh air. I take it you have everything under control here?”

“Don’t go far.”

Becca put two fingers to her temple in a salute. “Yes, sir!”

Chapter Nineteen

The make-up artist lay on the ground, a single gunshot to his forehead. The guy really did a great job, but he couldn’t chance him leaking his new identity to anyone.

It took a few seconds to change the message on his answering machine. A family emergency has called me away, so please leave a message and your number....

Thank goodness his keys were on a side table. He didn’t relish the thought of having to put his hand in his pants pocket. He dragged the body to the bathroom and hoisted it up and over in the tub, drawing the curtain closed behind him once he’d finished.

Outside, the rain had stopped, and the sun streamed through a break in the clouds. He glanced around before dropping the artist’s set of keys into the waste bin.

Now to find Buddy.

A glimpse in a store window made him stop and smooth the moustache under his nose. It felt a little odd, having never been able to grow one. He’d tried many times, but it simply wasn’t in his genes.

It took the better part of the day hanging out in the streets before he spotted the dealer and casually swaggered over to where he stood.

The tall, tattooed man eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want?”

He managed to convince the guy to step into an alley.

“I need a shot of blocker. Can you help?”

The dealer narrowed his eyes and looked down his nose at him. “What do you need that for?”

“That’s my business. Can you do it or not? I’ll pay double your usual asking price.” He peeled off a few hundred from the roll of bills he pulled out of his pocket and held the money out to him. With his free hand, he covered the gun stuffed down the waistline of his pants. “I’ll give you the same amount when you hand over what I need.”

The dealer stepped back, laughing. “How do you know I won’t kick your ass and take that wad of cash?”

He glared at the man, staring intently into his eyes. “By the time you take one step toward me, I’d put a bullet in your head.” He lifted his shirt enough to show his piece.

The dealer held up his hands. “Whoa, buddy. No need for any of that shit.”

“Can you do it or not?”

“Of course I can. Why don’t you go have a cup of coffee at that shop across the road? Sit at the bar. I’ll be there shortly.”

He gave him a curt nod before crossing the street.

Randy stood with his back to the wall and lifted the edge of the curtain slightly. Becca stood at the end of the long driveway talking to Jacob. If she saw him checking up on her she’d freak, but if his hunch was right, there was a very real possibility the killer watched their every move.

News of the missing journal prompted the team to start from scratch. It always bode well to have an object in mind when conducting a search.

“Hey, Randy, come take a look at this.” One of the officers called out to him from the top of the staircase.

Randy’s heartbeat fluttered as he climbed the staircase two steps at a time.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as if the wind had whispered across it.

The officer ushered him through the master bedroom to a door off to the side. “What is this?”

“It’s the doc’s sitting room.”

A strong sense of intruding caused him to pause in the doorway. He shuddered involuntarily, a little spooked to see the woman’s things exactly how she’d left them five years ago. Given the layer of dust coating everything, it didn’t look like the professor ever let his staff in to clean.

“Mable? Do you think you can spare a minute or two so I can ask you a couple of questions?”

The woman looked up at him, a stack of freshly laundered towels in her hand. “Yes, just let me put these away first.”

The housekeeper waddled up the hallway and disappeared into the master en-suite. Seconds later, she reappeared and he crossed the distance between them.

“Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?”

“Come to the kitchen with me. I’ll pour you some tea and I can finish preparations for the professor’s supper.”

Randy welcomed the reprieve and sat on a chair at a huge island in the well-organized kitchen. The aroma drifting over from a big pot on the stove set his stomach growling.

“That smells pretty good.”

The housekeeper’s demeanor changed with the compliment, her eyes bright and alive. “Do you like soup?”

He nodded.

“Here, I’ll give you some and you can talk.”

He didn’t argue, practically drooling when she put a steaming bowl and two wedges of bread slathered in butter in front of him.

“Thank you.”

She smiled.

“How long have you worked here?” He dipped a corner of his bread in the dark broth. A medley of beef and vegetables exploded in his mouth. “Oh...now this is good soup.”

Mable giggled. “Thank you, it’s the professor’s favourite. I’ve been here for over twenty years now.”

He looked up briefly. “So you knew his wife?”

“The doctor was an angel. Oh, how she loved her husband. They shared the kind of love you see in movies.” She sniffled. “He isn’t the same man he once was. It’s like something went missing the day she died. Sadly, he loses his will to carry on the more time goes by without her.”

She took a picture down from the wall and passed it to him.

Randy saw what she meant. The professor in the picture was tall and proud, a hand lovingly resting on his beautiful wife’s shoulder. His other arm encircled a young man of about twenty. He didn’t recall seeing him in any of the pictures scattered throughout the house.

“Who is this?”

“That is Jeffery, their son.”

He dropped his spoon in the empty bowl. “I didn’t know they had a kid. I don’t think we’ve ever heard the professor talk about him.”

“It’s another sad story, I’m afraid.” Mable took the tissue out from her shirt cuff. “I think this is the last photo of them together.”

“Why is it a sad story?”

“Jeffery hasn’t set foot in this house since his mother died.” She dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “He took it very hard.”

“Where did he go?”

“Jeffery still works here, mostly in the fields, but refuses to set foot in this house. The memories are too painful for him, and the professor rejects any offer to clean or dispose of anything Pauline left behind.” She shrugged. “Sometimes he stays in the bunkhouse after a long day in the fields, but his place is about a mile or so down the road, in the middle of the property with fields on both sides of him. I go there once a week and clean up a little. I often leave him a pot of soup like this. He’s a very kind and gentle man.”

“I didn’t see him the day we came and talked to the workers.” Randy didn’t talk to the son. He would have remembered since the guy would be so different from the rest.

“Is Jeffery working here today?”

“I saw him leaving very early this morning. I think he took a drive into the city.”

He stood. “Thank you so much for the soup. I think it’s the best I’ve ever had.” He leaned across the island and kissed her rosy cheek. “I’ll leave you alone now to get on with your day.”

He blew out a long breath and went in search of the chief.

Why does it feel like everyone is keeping Jeffery a secret? Not even Jacob mentioned him.

Chapter Twenty

“How did we miss something like this?” Randy slid a photo across the table.

Becca’s jaw dropped. “That’s him! I’m not going crazy. That’s the guy I told you I saw standing at the back of the greenhouse. Who is he?”

“Jeffery Davies.”

“How can that be? Why didn’t the professor or anyone else mention him?”

“Apparently he hasn’t set foot in the house since shortly after his mother died.” Randy teetered on the back legs of his chair. “The guy even lives on the property about a mile or so down the road.”

“Are you saying you think he’s our killer?”

He shrugged. “Well, I definitely think we need to pay him a visit.”

“How do you want to handle this?” She couldn’t sit still.

“Why don’t we just go out there and take a look around?” He gathered all of his papers and stuffed them in a file.

“Let’s take the bikes,” she suggested. The rain stopped long ago, and the sun had dried the roads.

“Why not? It’s not like we have enough on the guy to arrest him or issue a warrant.”

“I’m going home to clean up a bit. Do you want to meet here?”

“I’ll drop you off and go get my bike.” Randy picked up the file and put a hand on the small of her back. “I think a ride is just what the doctor ordered.”

She smiled. “Copy that. I’ll meet you back at the shop.”

Randy glanced at his watch. Come on Becca. He keyed in her number for the third time only to get a recorded message once again. She wouldn’t take off on her own, would she? Almost half an hour had passed since he’d dropped her off. Something isn’t right.

He hopped on his bike and rode across town to her place, breathing a sigh of relief to find her ride in the driveway. His respite was short-lived once he noticed her back door slightly ajar.

“Becca?”  He drew his gun and cautiously stepped inside. It looked like the only light on was in the kitchen. The door connected with something behind it. He looked down to find her helmet on the floor.

“Shit!” He ran out of the house and kicked in the garage door only to find it empty. He ran one hand through his hair while he keyed a number in his cell with the other.

The person you are trying to reach is not available....

“Dammit, Becca.” He entered the chief’s number.

“Hey, Randy, what’s up?”

“I think the bastard has her.” He walked around her bike, praying he was wrong.

“Calm down, who has who?”

“Becca, The Florist has her. I know it!”

He told the chief about Jeffery and their plan to ride out to his place and get a closer look around.

“I’m sending a team over there right now.”

“I’m going out there. That fucker better not hurt her.”

“Whoa now, Randy. You need to calm down. Nobody is going anywhere by themselves.”

“Don’t ask me to sit around and wait. I can’t do that.”

“When the team gets there, I want you back here and we’ll round up a few officers to look for her. I don’t know if the professor’s son is our guy or not, but my every instinct screams the answer is on that farm.”

While waiting for the team, Randy battled a plethora of emotions: anger, fear, frustration. What was I thinking dropping her off alone? I should have at least checked out the house. Now she’s gone.... Flashes of the victims went off in his mind like firecrackers, their mouths sewn shut, eyes bulging.

Becca, I’m so sorry. Hang in there, girl. I’ll find you. If that bastard harms one hair on your head, he’ll wish he’d never been born.

Giddy with excitement, he doubled over in a fit of giggles. To think only a few feet away Ms. Hoity-toity Detective sat unconscious and he had her all to himself. Luckily for him the element of surprise and strength of chloroform worked in his favor. She didn’t even see him coming when she was on her way out of the house.

Several minutes passed before he was able to get back to painstakingly peeling the thin layers of dark skin from his face.  Even if someone saw him leave with her over his shoulder, they’d describe a black man.

Once satisfied no trace of his disguise remained, he patted his face dry and opened the drawer in front of him. He smiled and gently fingered the syringe. He had all the props in place but no specific plan in mind. One thing he did know for certain—he’d savor every moment of their time together. There was no need to rush. Randy had no idea what happened to his precious partner.

Giddiness rose up in him once again, and he tilted his head back and laughed.

His blood-curdling laughter chilled Becca to the very core. It wasn’t easy to keep her eyes closed, but the longer he thought her unconscious, the better. The possibilities of his intentions grew fear within her that spread like wildfire.

Becca didn’t hear him moving around anymore, but the sound of his breathing kept her silent. Do I dare look? If he thinks I’m still out of it, am I relatively safe?

She remembered reaching for her helmet and stepping out of the house. There’d been a smell, right? He’d pressed a cloth over her mouth and nose. The chloroform still lingered at the back of her throat.

A chair scraped against something really hard, maybe concrete. His steps grew closer until his warm breath caressed her face. She didn’t flinch, keeping her breaths even and steady.

“It’s time for you to wake up, my dear Becca. I have so many things planned for your time together.”

Oh God, please don’t touch me.

In spite of her plea, his fingers traced her jaw line, forcing her to shudder and open her eyes.

A plethora of emotions rushed to the surface as she looked into his familiar eyes.

How could you?

The moon hung big and bright in a star-filled sky, illuminating the country roads they travelled. Chief drove the SUV. A convoy of police cars and trucks followed close behind.

It’s a good thing he knew what they were looking for or they probably wouldn’t have noticed the tidy bungalow, nestled in between the fields of flowers. Lace curtains muted the light from within.

Randy’s heart hammered as they surrounded the house and moved toward the front door, weapons drawn. Chief Thomson knocked hard on the door.

“Jeffery Davies, this is the police.”

Randy couldn’t wait another second and kicked the door as hard as he could to bust it wide open. It took all of five minutes to determine Jeffery wasn’t there. The tidy room with antique furniture certainly wasn’t the kind of place he imagined a ruthless killer lived.

“I want half of you to search the fields on foot, just in case he saw us coming and ran. The rest of us are going to drive over to the main house. We’ll reconvene there.” Chief was headed to his vehicle before he finished the last sentence.

With lights flashing, Randy drove one of the cruisers the short distance to the homestead. News of their presence seemed to have stirred the main house. Each window glowed with light. Randy pulled up out front to find Professor Davies on the porch looking none too happy.

“What the hell is going on now? Do you have any idea what time it is?” The veins on his neck bulged.

This was the first time Randy had seen him angry. “Do you know where Jeffery is?”

“My son? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Becca is missing, and we think your son knows where she is.”

The professor frowned. “You can’t be serious. My son couldn’t possibly be involved.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but we really don’t have time to argue the point. Every minute that passes brings Becca closer to suffering the same demise as the other victims.”

“His house is about a...”

“No, we just came from there. He’s not home.”

The professor stroked his jaw. “Sometimes he spends the night in the bunkhouse.”

Chief barked orders, and the team raced toward the workers’ quarters.

“I don’t understand any of this.”

Randy paused. “I’m sure this is hard on you, Professor. We’ll keep you informed.”

“Do you think my son could harm her?”

“If we’re right, yes. He could definitely hurt Becca.”

“Wait a minute. You aren’t suggesting he’s this Florist...a serial killer?”

Randy needed to join the others. “I really have to go. I’ll be back when we have something tangible or better.”

The men were in position by the time he arrived. Chief looked less than impressed by the delay he’d caused, but nodded for him to go ahead. Without giving the men inside any warning, Randy kicked in the door.

“Police! Everyone up and stand at the end of your bunks, hands where we can see them.”

Randy’s jaw dropped. Jeffery climbed down from the loft, half dressed, followed closely by Jacob, who was also without shoes or shirt. The two obviously shared the same bed.

“Jeffery Davies?”

The man stood still, wide-eyed. “Yes, I’m Jeffery Davies. What’s going on?”

Disheartened, Randy replied, “We’re going to need you to get dressed, both you and Jacob. We’d like to have a talk with you.”

It’s not him. Jeffery doesn’t have Becca, and it is highly improbable he’s The Florist.

“What do we do now?” Randy approached the chief.

“I guess we get together with Jeffery and his father. Let’s pray they can lead us to Becca.”

Randy opted to walk back to try and curb his mounting frustration. The mere thought of what could be happening to Becca at this precise moment made him physically ill.

Becca, where are you?

Chapter Twenty One

She’d battled demons and conquered many fears in her forty years, but at this precise moment she freely admitted to being scared shitless. There has to be a way out. If he uses that needle, God only knows what he’ll do to me.

The more Becca struggled, the deeper the tape burned into her flesh. If only I could bend my elbows.

The sheen of perspiration worked in her favor, helping the tape work its way up her arm. Her eyes filled and she blinked rapidly to clear her vision.

Please stay away just a little longer. If I can get my wrists to my mouth, I might be able to chew through the tape.

She frantically wiggled from side to side in hopes of moving the tape further. Her gaze never wavered from the panel Danny had disappeared behind. The harder she worked, the more she sweated. The mounting tension made the threat of being sick, very real.

Finally, the tape slid over her elbow. Despite her pain, she moved quickly, bringing her wrists up to start gnawing through the bloodied tape.

All too soon, the creak of the panel forced her to stop and lie perfectly still. Becca prayed he didn’t notice anything amiss. She swallowed her rising frustration. If only he’d stayed away a little longer.

Worry lines sprouted between Danny’s eyes as he crossed the distance between them.

Please, please, please, don’t figure out what I’ve been up to.

He now stood at her side and looked down on her. Suspicion darkened his eyes as his fingertips skimmed her lips and came away bloodied.

Becca held her breath, forcing a calm exterior.

“You bit your lip?” His words were slurred like he’d been drinking drunk. Danny let go of her hair and pulled at the tape wound around her wrists.

She whimpered.

“Aw, does that hurt?” He yanked at it harder, the tape digging deeper and deeper into her skin.

“You sick bastard.” With every ounce of strength left in her, Becca clasped her hands and brought up her fist, connecting with his nose. Blood spurted over her and the floor.

Danny howled, grabbing his nose and hopping about like he was in a tribal dance. Becca prayed for mercy. Her plan to knock him out failed.

He squeezed the bridge of his swelling nose and glared at her. “You know, for a hotshot detective, you’re not very smart. Rule number one: never piss off the guy holding the needle.”

Randy stepped on the gas and blazed a trail out of Danny’s driveway.

Jeffery grabbed the dashboard. “Take it easy, man. How was I supposed to know he rented out his house?”

He smacked the steering wheel. “I’m not pissed off at you, Jeffery. I’m just plain ol’ pissed off. God only knows what he’s doing to her right now.” Pictures of the seven victims played over and over in his mind.

During the discussion between Jeffery, Jacob, and the professor, they listed previous workers who might have the kind of knowledge needed to pull something of this magnitude off undetected. Once Danny’s name was mentioned everything fell into place, and before long they agreed they’d uncovered the identity of The Florist. “I still can’t wrap my head around it being a cop. Never in a million years would any of us have suspected Danny.”

“If it’s any consolation, Danny’s a real smooth talker. I’m not surprised he never drew any suspicion.”

“So, the two of you were close at one time?”

Jeffery settled in his seat. “I couldn’t talk about this in front of my father last night. Danny was my first lover. We were best friends, and when his mother passed away, he came to live with us. Soon after, he seduced me.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t consensual?”

He waved a hand. “No, no, nothing like that. Danny was the first man to love me in that way. Before then you could say I was a little confused about my sexuality.”

“Is that the reason behind you and your father’s estrangement?”

“Not entirely. You see, Danny and my mother became very close, and he took on the role of her protector. As you can well imagine, we were all devastated by her sudden death, but Danny took grief to a whole new level. He wouldn’t accept that she simply died of a heart attack. Everybody was suspect, and someone was going to pay for her death. It became his mission in life to find out whom.

“My mother helped us keep our relationship from my father. Shortly after her death, he found out and went ballistic. He told Danny to move out, even banned him from the property. I also left the house that night, but continued to work and live on the acreage.”

Jeffery shrugged indifference. “Dear old dad actually did me a favor. I wanted to end it with Danny, but didn’t know how. A few months later, I hooked up with Jacob, and here we are now.”

Randy listened to Jeffery’s story half-heartedly. While it was all interesting and gave him a better understanding of Danny, it brought them no closer to finding Becca. He hit the steering wheel again. “We’re missing something and I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is.” Smoke came up from under the car as he hit the brakes and peeled down the professor’s driveway.

His heart sank as the scene unfolded before them. The officers lingered outside the buildings, making it crystal clear their search had turned up nothing. His tires bit into the gravel with the truck’s sudden stop.

“The dogs. Why haven’t they been called in? Mark, go find the chief and bring him back here. I don’t have the authority to request them.”

After thirty excruciating minutes, the K9 units arrived with two beautiful Belgian Malinois on board. Each dog had been outfitted with ballistic vests for their protection. Given Danny’s state of mind and the fact he’d already poisoned and killed a dog, he wouldn’t think twice about shooting them.

With ears pointed upwards, one canine sniffed Becca’s sweater and the other Danny’s vest. Their police partners knelt beside them and uttered their command of search and find.

The dogs put their black snouts to the ground and ran off in the same direction. Their partners followed close behind until both animals jumped into a thicket of trees and bramble, obscuring the back of a sorting building.

Randy’s heart pumped so hard he heard blood rushing in his ears. He’d asked Jacob earlier what was behind that particular structure and the guy assured him not even their brawny utility trucks could get through the mass of overgrown weeds and foliage there.

We can’t get to it from the front, but maybe we can go through the back.

“Jacob, can you show us around to the other side of this brush? Isn’t it possible he got in that way?”

The foreman shrugged and slid in behind the wheel of his Mule. “I guess it’s possible, but I can’t see how he did it without anybody noticing.”

The trainers tried to bring the dogs back to no avail. Once the two animals started to bark incessantly, he turned to the chief. “They’ve definitely found something.”

“Can’t you just command them to come back?” the chief asked.

“They are trained to stay with their find. I doubt they’ll come.” He cupped the side of his mouth and called out. “Baron! Regan! Home!”

“We’re wasting time.” Randy waved the chief over. “If anyone gets in this way, let us know immediately. I want a team to follow us as well.”

Jacob drove down the lane to the main road. He travelled a short distance before turning onto a rough path through the middle of a field. He pointed to where the tree line began.

“Right about here is where they went in from the other side.”

“Can’t we get closer than this?” Randy’s lack of patience reached a new high.

“Not without ruining the flowers.”

“I don’t care if we have to plow them all under. It’s probable Danny came this way, so take us there now.” Randy struggled to rein in his anger.

“Let’s calm down a minute. You’re not doing her any good making decisions half-cocked.” Chief raised his brows.”Sit down and take a deep breath.”

Randy glanced at the other passengers and eased back in his seat, feeling very much the scolded child. “I’m sorry, but for all we know that whack job is over there sewing Becca’s mouth shut right now.”

Chief squeezed his arm before addressing Jacob. “Keep going until you feel we are directly across from the building, and then drive a straight line across the field. I think Becca’s life is more important than a few rows of posies.”

Jacob nodded and slipped back behind the wheel. He didn’t go much further before turning. He came to a stop after crushing only a dozen or so of the vibrant yellow blooms. He frowned and hopped down, parting the tall stems.

“Look at this.” He moved to one side to show them tracks already carved between the rows.”

Randy jumped out of the truck and dropped to one knee. “These two fat ones look like they came from a truck.” His fingers slid down the grooves of the third track, “Shit! A motorcycle.”

Chief was already on the radio relaying their discovery. Not long after, the field swarmed with men, making their way through the field. The building sat hidden behind a cluster of lilac trees. It had a double door to accommodate a motorcycle, and cement pad where only an oil stain remained.

A couple of men in welding masks ground the locks. Armed special task force officers stood at each door and signalled, weapons drawn. The doors flew open with a bang, and silence permeated the space as Randy took it all in. Danny’s big black motorcycle sat in the center of the room.

He saw no sign of Danny or Becca aside from the remnants of bloodied tape. The pool of blood under a leather masseuse table was still warm to the touch.

“Fuck! While we were chasing those fucking dogs, Danny took Becca out of here. Where the hell did he take her now?”

Chapter Twenty-two

Becca forced her eyes closed while Danny paced back and forth in front of the sofa where she lay. Keeping up the ruse of being unconscious bought her a little time to come up with an escape plan. She tried to decipher Danny’s gibberish as his sanity unravelled with each passing moment.

She held her breath, feeling the couch dip under his weight, his hot breath on her face almost her undoing. Danny snapped his fingers in front of her face, and she prayed none of her muscles twitched. Her stomach churned with the musky scent of his aftershave tickling her nose, the threat of her puking imminent.

“I’ll be right back, darlin’, and then we’ll get started.” His footsteps faded across the wooden floor, followed by the opening and closing of a door.

Please God, show me a way out of this nightmare.

She dared open her eyes a sliver to glance about the room, careful not to change her position. All she could see out the windows were trees. She concluded they were in a cabin of sorts. Given the worn furniture and photos that littered the room, someone lived here.

The only hope she had of making it out of this situation alive was to outsmart him. Overpowering definitely wasn’t happening. Sure, she gave him a nosebleed, but he recovered in seconds and had the presence of mind to put a chloroform soaked cloth to her face.

She was pretty sure the cops were hot on Danny’s trail. What other reason could there be for leaving the setup where he had everything at his disposal? Becca committed the room’s layout to her memory. She had no choice but to try and get away soon, before he had a chance to use the drug.

Danny had her at a huge disadvantage. He knew where they were; she didn’t even know if there was a back door. It would be stupid to risk running off blindly. No, she needed to be patient and stick to her plan, and with a little luck, save her own life.

She closed her eyes the same instant the front door opened and Danny stepped inside. He dropped something heavy on the floor before shutting it behind him.

“I think it’s time for you to wake up.” Danny put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed, lifting her upper body from the couch and pushing her back down hard, before leaving her once again. The unmistakable sound of tape being pulled from a roll broke the silence.

She lay in wait of the perfect moment. His footsteps grew closer.

“Ah!” Becca bolted upright.

He stumbled back into the coffee table and fell to the ground. She lunged forward, the door knob in her grasp.

“No!”

Danny’s hand clamped around her ankle and pulled her to the floor. She kicked out with everything in her to get free.

“You fool. Haven’t you learned by now you’re not going to get away from me so easily?”

He flipped her over, knocking the wind from her lungs. She gasped for air, coughing and blinking to clear her vision. Becca froze.

Danny now knelt beside her, syringe in hand. “Enough of the fun and games. You just pissed me off one too many times.”

The sudden crunch of tires against gravel stole his attention. He slipped the syringe back inside his vest pocket and then picked her up and ran to the bathroom where he dropped her in the tub. Her head connected with the faucet, and the world started to spin.

“Hello? Is anybody here?”

Becca recognized Jacob’s voice and opened her mouth only to have Danny stuff a towel in it. Sweat dripped from his face and fire burned in his eyes as he took his gun from the back of his pants and aimed it at her head.

“Hello?”

“You shut the fuck up,” he snarled. “I hear one noise out of you and your buddy out there gets it.” He slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Her hand went to the source of jolting pain and came away bloodied. She pulled the towel out of her mouth and pressed it against the wound. Slowly, she moved out of the tub only to end up flat on her ass. The room spiraled, sucking her into a black hole of nothingness.

Randy sat at the counter in Danny’s hideout. Every single aspect of the room had a purpose, from the portable incinerator to the tall coolers used to preserve the flowers. Unfortunately, he ended up empty-handed when it came to the good doctor’s elusive journal. An element, he believed, would answer many of the questions swimming in his head. The cylindrical case was another item not found. There was an endless supply of surgical gloves, wet wipes, duct tape, and rain suits. Not one thing told him where Danny might have taken Becca.

Suddenly the door burst open and Jeffery ran in. “Something is wrong! If that bastard hurts him...!”

Randy slid off the barstool and held a hand up to halt his tirade. “Slow down.” He walked over to Jeffery, who stooped with his hands on his thighs attempting to slow his breathing.

“Jacob...something wrong...I feel it.”

“What makes you think that? Where is he?”

“That’s just it.” He straightened his stance and threw his hands up in the air. “He left over an hour ago to grab some clothes from my place.” He began pacing. “He’s not answering his cell.” With an air of drama, he put his fist to his mouth and choked out a sob.

Randy took hold of the distraught lover’s shoulders until the guy looked at him.

“We’ll find Jacob. Right now you need to calm down and focus. It’s possible there’s a very simple explanation. Remember, cars break down, phones die, and so on.”

Jeffery shook his head in earnest. “No, you’re going to have to trust me on this. I sense something isn’t right.”

“Well, then let’s grab a couple of men and take a ride over there.” Randy ushered Jacob’s lover from the room. “Why don’t you try his number more time?”

Jeffery held his cell phone between them and pushed redial, letting it ring until it went to voicemail. “Jacob, I’m here with Randy. You need to call us when you get this message. We’re on our way over there. I’m very worried about you.”

Chapter Twenty-three

“Fuck!”

Becca startled awake to a phone connecting with the wall and pieces of it flying around the room. She was no longer in the bathroom but gagged and tied to a kitchen chair, and this time she wasn’t alone. Jacob now sat across from her. Blood dripped from a nasty gash at his temple and his chin rested on his chest. He appeared to be oblivious of anyone or anything around him.

Danny ran toward her. “We have to get out of here now!”

She squeezed her eyes shut preparing to die. A flood of relief brought tears to her eyes as Danny cut the tape from her wrists and ankles. Her joyous moment was short-lived when the all too familiar cool metal of his gun pressed against her forehead.

“You’re going to help me get him to my truck. I got no time for fucking games. If he’s not out there in less than five minutes, I’ll put a bullet in both of you and fly out of here solo.” He pushed the gun against her skin. “Understood?”

Becca nodded, unable to respond with the tape still stretched across her mouth. She shifted her attention to the window. Why the sudden urgency to get away? Randy? Are you coming for me? None of it really mattered if she didn’t do what he wanted. She dropped to her knees and began frantically pulling at the tape wrapped tightly around his ankles.

“For fuck’s sake!” Danny shoved her aside and ran his blade between Jacob’s ankles, biting into shin flesh, too.

The tape muffled Jacob’s pain-filled cries. The slice must have been excruciating, but his eyes remained closed.

“You take the other side.”

His menacing tone quickened Becca’s step. They literally dragged Jacob outside and into the back of the SUV—ironically the precinct’s vehicle. Do I dare take the tape from my mouth? No, he’s already teetering on the edge. I’ll wait it out.

Seconds passed before the passenger door opened. “Get over, you’re driving.”

Becca scrambled over the console and slid in behind the wheel while Danny put the keys in the ignition and started the truck. The entire time he kept his gun trained on her.

“Drive. When you get to the road don’t stop, just turn right and step on it.”

Where are we going now? She glanced in the mirror and saw Jacob in the exact same position they’d left him. What set Danny off? A phone call? A message? Please let this mean help is on the way.

Randy punched the wall. “Dammit!” The feeling of déjà vu was becoming all too familiar. He stooped to pick up a part of what once was a cell phone. Pieces of it lay strewn across the floor amidst broken furniture and puddles of blood. He swallowed the lump in his throat at the prospect of Becca being hurt.

Chief grabbed hold of his shirtsleeve as he ran past him toward the door. “Come on! Let’s go! They can’t have more than a four or five minute lead.”

Randy squelched the rage rising up in him and sprang into action, reaching the SUV at the same time the chief did. He barely shut the door before gravel flew up from under the tires and the car lurched forward. Chief flipped on the lights, following the strip of rubber at the end of the lane, and then stepped on the gas.

“Where could they be headed in this direction? There’s only farm land for miles.” Randy strained to see the passengers in passing vehicles.

“Danny can be somewhat anal when it comes to details. Trust me, he knows exactly where he’s going.”

Randy shrugged. “Maybe not. How could he know Jacob would show up? If it wasn’t for Jeffery’s message, we would’ve arrived unexpectedly.” He smacked the dash. “Why did I ask him to call?”

“Give yourself a break, kid. We had no way of knowing he’d take Becca there.”

Randy raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think he planned to. He probably got wind of the dogs coming and didn’t know where to go, so he went to the closest place he knew.”

“Look, up ahead.” Chief pointed at fresh skid marks turning into a storage unit facility. There had to be a hundred of them, side by side, row upon row.

Chief pulled in at a portable office. A sign on the door stated: Call for Assistance.

“Get the guy with the keys over here right away,” Randy barked the order at the officers in the back seat. “We’re going to need a few men out here or we’ll be days going through these entire units one at a time.”

Becca couldn’t shake the mounting despair after leaving the storage unit. By now a team of officers were going from one unit to the next in search of her and now Jacob. They’d have no reason to suspect Danny’s clever diversion. He had her driving down a dirt road towards an old farm house with a For Sale sign at the end of the lane.

Did Danny already know about this place? Surely he can’t be winging it as he goes along?

Jacob now moaned much of the time, undoubtedly in a great deal of pain from his various injuries.

“Pull in around back.” Danny straightened in his seat. The second she put the truck in park, he reached over and took the keys. “Get out and help me carry him inside.”

Physically and emotionally drained, it took everything in her to help carry him to the house. The old wooden door swung open with a kick, and they brought Jacob inside. Sparse furniture littered the main floor they passed through to lay Jacob on an threadbare sofa.

He waved the gun under her nose. “Grab a chair.”

Reluctantly Becca did as asked, knowing full well it was meant for her. Danny held her firmly in place with strength belying his size. This time he wrapped the tape from torso to ankles, leaving her no chance of escaping.

Once he’d finished with her, he pulled another chair to sit between them. He slipped his hand in the side pocket of his khaki’s. Everything seemed to freeze in place once he held the syringe up between them.

“Now, I do believe I’ve bought us a little time to do things properly.”

Jacob looked over at her. “Becca,” he rasped.

“How wonderful of you to come back to us. Your timing couldn’t be more perfect.” Danny flew from his chair and drove the needle into Jacob’s arm, injecting half of the clear liquid.

She screamed into the tape. Jacob’s body bucked once before becoming completely still. Oh, my God, no!

Danny smiled devilishly and turned Jacob’s head to face her. The blocker had done its job. Not enough to kill him, but seemingly the right dosage to render Jacob a virtual prisoner in his own body.

Becca made a futile attempt to get free from her bindings as Danny stood and sashayed across the room, needle in hand. Every expression, every move of her captor resonated shear madness. His laughter chilled her to the core. The Florist smiled and straddled her.

“You look like you have something to say.” With no regard, he ripped the tape from her face, drawing blood.

“Danny, please, you don’t have to do this. Jacob hasn’t done anything wrong.”

He snarled. “Oh no? That prick took the only man I have ever loved from me. He deserves everything I have planned for him, and more.”

“Danny, I’m begging you not to use that on me. I’ll do anything you tell me to do. I can help you get away. I have a little money tucked away. It’s all yours, just please—”

He traced her bleeding lips with his index finger and held up the syringe between them, spurting out a little stream of the drug. “It wouldn’t be fair if Jacob has all the fun, now would it?”

He kept his gaze trained on her while he jabbed the needle in her arm. A scream died in her throat and her muscles relaxed until she couldn’t even part her lips.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“This is ridiculous. We’ve been at this for over an hour and we’re no closer to finding them than we were when we started.” Randy paced back and forth.

Chief’s radio crackled. “Chief, come to unit seven-two-four.”

Randy clutched at his chest as he climbed in the truck with the chief and tore off to find the unit. Several officers huddled in front of open bay doors.

“What do we have here?” Chief asked and stepped.

A tall, plain-clothed detective ushered him forward. “It’s Danny’s truck.”

Randy ran into the unit and looked in the windows. “Empty.” He took a pair of gloves from his vest pocket and put them on before opening the back hatch. Bitter bile rose in his throat as the stench wafted out. Someone’s blood stained a large patch of rug. Whose blood is it?

His boss put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I know what you’re thinking. If one of them is dead, don’t you think he would’ve left the body rather than cart it around with him?”

Randy nodded, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe they’re not dead, but one of them is bleeding badly. A person can only lose so much blood and survive.” He walked over to the passenger door and carefully opened it. The driver’s seat was also bloodied. “I wonder if Danny drove or if he forced one of them do it?”

A glint of silver on the driver’s side floor mat caught his attention. Randy rounded the front of the truck and swung the door open.

“It’s a ring—Becca’s pinky ring. She’s letting us know she’s alive.” A rush of adrenaline urged him to look for further evidence. “She had to be the one driving.”

“That means it’s Jacob who’s hurt.” Chief raked his fingers through his hair.

“Does this mean you’re done with me?” The silver-haired caretaker jangled his key ring.

Chief shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“I’ll go look up the file on this unit. Back in a flash.”

“Jerry, call in and find out if Danny has any other vehicles registered in his name.”

Jerry jogged over to one of the squad cars.

“Now what? We were probably minutes behind them when we got here. Now they’ve got at least an hour’s lead.” Randy started to pace yet again, frustrated beyond words.

“You’re forgetting Danny’s a cop. He knows to stay out of sight. My guess is that’s he’s not gone far at all.”

With her entire body rendered useless, all she could do was look from side to side with her eyes. Thankfully Danny left them alone in the room. Her sense of time had vanished along with her motor skills. It seemed a lifetime had passed, but it could easily have been a matter of minutes.

Danny had positioned her to face Jacob, who reclined on the sofa still as a corpse. If it wasn’t for the slight rise and fall of his chest Becca would’ve thought him dead. Waiting for Danny to come back was almost as torturous as not being in control of her body.

Like a slideshow, photos of the seven crime scenes played over and over in her mind. Jacob already assumed the position on the sofa. If she had any hope of maintaining even a tendril of sanity, she couldn’t let her mind go there.

Did Randy see my ring on the floor of the truck? Does he have any idea where we are?

Danny meandered into the room freshly showered and wearing clean clothes.

What kind of killer does that?

He rubbed his hands together, looking from Jacob to her and back to Jacob. A devilish smirk played on lips as he squatted next to her, his face a whisper from hers.

“I hope you enjoy the show today. None of this would be possible if it weren’t for your meddling. Thank you.” He tilted his head back and laughed.

Her attempt to move away from the garbage spewing from his mouth proved futile. Danny sat back on his heels and dangled a large needle threaded with fishing line.

Oh my God, no! Please, oh my God, somebody please help us!

Danny took great pleasure in seeing sheer terror in the eyes of Ms. Hoity Toity Detective. He swung the polished steel instrument in front of her face back and forth, back and forth. Big, fat tears spilled onto her flushed cheeks, and he leaned forward to lick them away, jumping back just in time to miss the puke spewing from her mouth.

He laughed so hard tears came to his eyes. Things were moving along even better than he’d hoped. All color drained from her face, and yellowish, green spittle dripped from her chin.

“Aw, I’m sorry darlin’. If that was enough to make you sick just wait ‘til you see what happens next.”

He looked down at Jacob. “It’s time for you to pay the piper. Did you really think I’d just sit back and let you take Jeffery from me? Lord knows what kind of crap you’ve poisoned his mind with about me. I’ll be sure to set things straight in due time, but first thing’s first.”

Danny scooped up the smaller black bag and set it next to the couch. He then straddled Jacob and sat on his chest. Was it fear or anger he saw in Jacob’s eyes? He shrugged.

Once he’d put on his gloves, he took a pack of baby wipes from the bag and set them on Jacob’s chest. With two fingers, he pulled the man’s lips out and held them together.

“We’ll just see how well you can use your mouth after I’m through with you.”

Danny curled his lip in a snarl as he pushed the needle through and out the bottom, drawing the long thread out dramatically. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Jacob’s pupils were so big he couldn’t see the color of his eyes.

“Perfect.”

Danny set to work, stopping every few stitches to look into Jacob’s frozen features. “Are you going fucking nuts in there? I sure hope so. You’re not such a pretty boy now, are you?” He took a wipe and cleaned the blood from his mouth.

Becca stared blankly. What he wouldn’t give to read her mind. “Are you enjoying the show, honey? I need a drink. Can I get you something while I’m up? No? Okay, don’t say I didn’t offer.” He got up from the sofa and stared down at Jacob. “How about you, buddy. Want a drink?” His hand fluttered to his mouth. “Oops, how rude of me. I guess you can’t. ”

His laughter rang off the walls on his way to the picture window. He looked out across the lush meadows. The smile froze on his face, and he squinted against the setting sun to see between the trees.

Flashing lights slowly passed by only to reappear seconds later. A SUV now sat idling out front. Danny stepped away from the window.

“Fuck!” He scrambled for a plan of action. His gaze zeroed in on the truck, and he blew out a rush of air as he watched the SUV carry on down the road. “Phew!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Look, over there.” Randy pointed at the old Brinkly homestead. “I think I saw him.”

“You think you saw who?” Chief’s gaze followed the direction he pointed.

“Back up to the gap between the trees.” Adrenaline gushed through his veins as he straightened in his seat. “He was standing right there in the picture window.”

Chief rolled his eyes in obvious disbelief. “I don’t see anything. Besides, those windows haven’t been cleaned in years. How could you see anything through them?”

“I’m not seeing things. I know what I saw. At least go along with me on this and check out the place.”

Chief put the truck in drive and eased away from the side of the road. “If, and I mean if you did see him, there’s a good chance he saw you, too. Let’s let him believe we’ve left for good.”

They drove a good distance up the road before pulling over. Chief called in for backup in unmarked cars.

“We don’t want to spook him and give him the opportunity to slip away again.”

“You believe me?” The corner of Randy’s mouth lifted. “I’m going to cut through the woods and see if I can get a look inside.”

His boss reached over him and locked the door. “You aren’t going anywhere without backup. How are you going to feel if you act impulsively and he gets away?”

Randy flopped back in his seat. “How are you going to feel if we get to them a few minutes too late?”

His boss rubbed his scruffy jaw. “Touché. Let’s get out and stretch our legs. I feel like I’ve been driving for days.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. “It will be dark soon. I think that’ll work in our favor in getting a closer look.”

The unmarked cars arrived casually to not draw attention. Things weren’t moving fast enough for Randy’s liking, but he knew how important it was for them all to be on the same page.

If Danny did see me, he’ll be watching for any sign of us.

Chief kept Larry with them since he grew up in the area and knew the land better than most. “I want the rest of you to set up on the others side of the property so you have Danny’s vehicle in sight.”

The team quickly followed the chief’s orders and dispersed. Randy ran close behind Larry through the wooded area while his boss lagged behind a few yards until they reached a cluster of bushes in direct line with the car.

His boss struggled to catch his breath. “I think I’m getting too old for this shit.”

Randy patted his back. “Are you going to be okay, ol’ man?”

He waved Randy off. “It’s been awhile.” He nodded toward the house. “His car is still there.”

“I can get in there and fix it so he can’t make a run for it.” Larry crouched next to them.

“Okay, but any sign of Danny and I want you to take cover. I do not want anyone confronting him alone.”

“Copy that.” Larry set out obscured by the shadows.

Randy looked from the car to the house and noticed an amber glow coming from a room at the front. “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

Chief sighed resignedly and drew his gun. “Go check out that light and be careful. I’ve got your back.”

He took the same approach as Larry. He pressed his back against the cool stone wall and gave the chief a thumbs up before crawling under the windows to the front. His heart hammered against his rib cage as he inched his way up to the window ledge.

Atop a stool a lantern sat bathing the room in an amber hue. His gaze settled on a sofa where someone lay perfectly still, but he couldn’t make out whom. Is it Becca? Am I too late?

He let his gaze travel around the poorly lit room. A dark shadow filled the doorway.

The Florist.

Danny walked into the room and over to the side too dark to see what he was doing.  There was definitely someone else with him. Randy squinted and made out what looked to be someone sitting in a chair.

We have to get in there and find out if Becca and Jacob are okay.

Randy retraced his steps until he met up with Larry, who had just disabled the car.

“There’s someone on the sofa and someone else sitting on a chair while that whack job walks around laughing his sorry ass off.” He balled his hands into fists. “I can’t tell if they’re alive or dead.”

Their superior joined them behind the car and took out a penlight, holding it out and turning it off and on three times. The signal was returned from the far side of the property.

“Here’s the plan. The other team is going to go in through the front, and we’ll cover the back. Remember, he’s armed and won’t think twice about shooting any one of us.” He slipped the penlight back in his pocket.

Randy’s phone vibrated in his vest. His breath caught as he looked at the caller I.D. “You aren’t going to believe this, but he’s calling my cell.”

Chief looked at the screen to read the perp’s name. “Answer it, but you have to keep your cool, Randy. Becca and Jacob’s lives depend on it.”

He blew out a rush of air. With a definitive nod, he clicked TALK. “Hello?”

“How nice it is to hear your voice. If I knew you were coming I would’ve had Becca bake a cake.”

“Danny? Is that you?”

“Don’t play me for a fool Detective Do-Gooder. I’m a cop and a damn good one. Did you think you could sneak up on me and I’d come out with my hands up?” His laughter sent a shiver up his spine.

Chief put his hand out for the phone and held it between them.

“Danny, this is the chief. Can you tell me if Becca and Jacob are okay?”

“I’ve never been better, thanks for asking. Maybe you should define okay before I answer your question.”

Randy snatched the cell. “You son-of-a-bitch. If you hurt one hair on her head, I swear you’ll wish you’d never been born.”

“You are in no position to threaten me. You’d be wise to remember that.”

He pushed the phone back in the chief’s hand and stormed off. It took everything in him not to knock down the door and go after the pompous ass-wipe himself.

Pull yourself together.

He rubbed his face and looked back at the farmhouse. “I’m here, Becca. I’m coming to get you.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

A glimmer of hope broke through the shroud of despair that encased her. It’s Randy on the other end of Danny’s phone call. Her gaze darted to the sofa where Jacob lay. She thanked God to see the slight rise and fall of his chest. Nothing seemed real after having to watch Danny perform such a despicable act on him, an image sure to haunt her for quite some time. That was if they got out of this nightmare alive.

Sensation slowly returned to her body. Once she was sure Danny wasn’t looking, she lifted each finger in turn. It felt like someone slowly filled her up with hot coffee, setting her nerve endings abuzz. She blinked back tears of relief. He needs to think I still can’t move. Maybe the darkness would give her half a chance of pulling this off. Upon hearing his laughter again, she shivered

Focus...focus...focus....

Danny walked over to the window. He folded his arms across his chest and smirked. “Always have a plan B.” He turned, facing her. “It looks like we have visitors.” He strode over and kneeled before her.

Becca knew she didn’t have enough strength to knock him down and run for it. No, I have to remain perfectly still. One, two, three, four....

Her captor moved to the zipper of her rain suit and slowly parted it until the cool air hardened her nipples.

“You want to be ready for your lover boy, don’t you?” He chuckled, pushed the jacket off her shoulders, and tossed it on the floor. Next, he freed her arms so they hung limply at her sides.

An ear-popping bang issued from the back of the house. He jumped up and ran from the room. Becca allowed the shudder she’d suppressed to travel through the length of her.

“Sssss....”

Jacob? Is that you? Although he didn’t turn to face her, his hand rose a few inches off the sofa and dropped to the exact same position. Tears clouded her vision. Even after all he’d been through, he wanted her to know the drug was wearing off.

“Sssss....” She prayed he understood her muffled response.

“If they think they’ve won, they’d better think again.” Danny stormed in the room, flailing his gun in the air. He stopped in mid-stride and glared at her. “Will you put some fucking clothes on? You’re going to make me puke.” He scooped the jacket from the floor and threw it on her lap, standing there like he expected her to put it on herself. Several seconds passed before he stomped over and wrapped the jacket around her, and pulled the zipper up, tearing the flesh of her breast and forcing it up to the top with her skin still caught in the teeth.

She bit the inside of her mouth to stop from crying out. The taste of blood took her mind off the pain.

The crazed killer strode up and down the length of the room, his finger on the weapon’s trigger.

“This is the police! We have the place surrounded. Come out with your hands up,” a voice through a loud speaker echoed in the farmhouse.

Danny opened the bigger black duffle bag and pulled out a semi-automatic. He stuffed a few extra magazines in the pocket of his newly acquired vest, making it perfectly clear he wasn’t going down without a fight.

He pulled his buzzing cell from his shirt pocket. “I’ve got nothing to say to you. If you’re going to bring out the big guns, I can play that game, too. Oh, and you can kiss your slutty girlfriend good bye.” He tossed his phone. It slid across the floor, coming to a stop under her chair.

“He’s not giving up. The asshole wants a show down.” Randy gritted his teeth.

His boss heaved a sigh.

Randy jerked, startled by the ringing in his hand. “Hello?”

“He’s got a few guns and ammo. Jacob is hurt. Danny thinks I can’t move.”

“Becca?” Relief washed over him and he stumbled back to lean against the car.

“Hurry.”

The line went silent. Why didn’t I have more faith in her? She’s a damn good cop.

His friend rushed to his side. “Becca?”

“Yes, how she got hold of his phone is beyond me.” He chuckled wryly. “Jacob is hurt and Danny thinks Becca can’t move.”

Chief’s expression sobered. “Dammit, he used that blocking drug on them.”

Becca’s partner swallowed hard. “What the fuck did he do to them?”

The shatter of glass pierced the silence. Randy turned to find the muzzle of a gun stuck out the side of the broken pane.

“I want you all to leave and I want it to happen now. If you ever want to see these two again you’ll back the fuck off!”

“Get behind those bushes,” Chief ordered everybody standing by Danny’s car.

Larry hunkered down beside him. “Hey, Chief, now that we have him back here it leaves the front of the house unmanned.”

“Good thinking. I’ll have Jerry and his team go to the front. Maybe we can keep Danny distracted long enough to get those two out before he realizes what’s happening.”

Randy positioned himself like a runner at the starting line. “I’m going with them.”

Chief put a hand on his arm. “You need to stay here. If he wants to talk to you and you’re not here, he’ll know something is up.”

He clenched his jaw.

“Come on, Danny. If you don’t give yourself up now, you got to know this is all going to end badly.” Chief wiped his sweat-beaded forehead with his shirtsleeve. “Why don’t you let Jacob and Becca go? Things will go easier on you in court if you do.”

Danny’s laughter resonated madness. Randy knew he had no intention of handing anybody over to them. The killer was a cop, too, for fuck’s sake. No matter what The Florist did, the rest of his days would be spent behind bars.

A blast from Danny’s gun turned a riding lawn mower into a raging inferno, sending an officer flying through the air in eerie silence. Judging by the force needed to launch a body like that, Danny must have planted some kind of explosive. He knew a single bullet couldn’t ignite the gas tank.

Chief spoke into the radio strapped to his shoulder. “Team One, open fire.”

A barrage of bullets slammed into the aged clapboard, where Danny fired from only moments before. Wood and glass flew in every direction.

“Cease fire!”

An ominous silence permeated the farm. The acrid stench of burning fuel set his throat ablaze and he covered his face with his arm. His eyesight blurred, as he tried to access the situation through the haze.

A short exchange of gunfire crackled from the front of the house, quickly followed by a resounding boom and billowing smoke floating up into the trees.

“Jerry? Are you there?” Chief spoke into his radio with no response.

“Alan, do you think you can get up there without him seeing you?” asked Chief Thomson. “I need to know what the hell happened up there.”

The officer dropped the shield over his face before hunkering down and weaving his way through the trees. It seemed a lifetime before Randy heard the radio crackle. “Team Two is down. I don’t see any survivors. It looks like some kind of trip wire. They never even made it to the door.”

Chief looked at Randy in horror and disbelief. “He’s got the place wired. Alan? Can you see into the house?”

“There’s a light coming from the front room. Hang on.”

With baited breath, Randy waited for the response.

“The room is empty. There’s nobody there.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the midst of all the chaos outside, Danny stormed into the room with knife in hand. He no longer resembled the clean-cut cop she’d worked with over the years. His face now blackened with soot and always perfect hair askew. Becca squeezed her eyes shut and prayed she wasn’t about to die.

Danny cut through the tape binding her to the chair and picked her up. She tried to bring her hands up to rake his eyes, but only succeeded in lightly brushing her fingertips across his cheek, the effects of the drug far from over.

“Ha! You’re something else, Becca. Welcome back.” Amusement now danced in his eyes. He wasted no time in running upstairs with her to a sparsely furnished bedroom where he sat her on a chair and quickly bound her to it.

All the while she prayed. Please don’t see the phone in my pocket. He held a piece of tape in front of her face and shrugged before tossing it to the side.

“Scream all you want. It won’t make a lick of difference.”

“What about Jacob?” She hardly recognized the rasp coming from her mouth.

“Jacob? I could care less what happens to him. He’s no threat to anyone.” His lips curled in a snarl, and he narrowed his eyes at her. “You, my dear, are my trump card. You’ll be safe up here for now.”

He quickly pulled the mattress off of the bed and propped it up against the narrow window, engulfing the room in darkness. He paused beside her and said, “I really hope you’re not afraid of the dark.” His tongue circled the inside of her ear before he continued out of the room.

A shudder ripped through her and she willed away the urge to vomit. The door closed behind him, and a key rattled the lock with a final click.

She wagered Jacob still lay on the couch. Whether he was alive or dead was another matter. Becca squinted, trying to adjust to the darkness. Moonlight streamed in through an uncovered space at the top of the window.

This time he’d taped her good. Her hands stuck out the bottom of her bindings, slowly losing sensation from the lack of blood supply. She took a good look around the room. A single bed sat against one wall and a small chest of drawers stood nearby it. Her breath hitched.

“It’s an old iron bed frame.” She had a bed like it when she was little and knew the ends of the springs were very pointed and sharp.

Becca sat at an angle in the corner, at least four feet from the bed. With every ounce of strength she could muster, she tried to throw her weight in hopes of bouncing the chair across the room. Unfortunately, her strength didn’t match her determination. Her frustration level reached an all-time high and she screamed.

“Chief? Randy? I’m upstairs! Can you hear me?” Becca threw her weight in the direction of the bed and crashed to the floor, her head hitting the iron frame.

“Shit!” Her world spun and the all-too-familiar darkness swept her away.

Danny shivered in unbridled expectation. He could hardly wait until they happened upon his other surprises.  His smile broadened upon hearing Becca’s screams. Is the big-shot detective a little scared? He should really just shoot Jacob and be done with him, but for whatever reason, he wanted him alive. Not that he’d be any good to anyone with his love-maker sewn shut.

Jacob sat propped in the corner where he’d moved him to, only now he’d acquired a rather foul odor about him. Danny turned up his nose and pulled the guy up to his feet, uncovering the reason for the stench. He’s done gone and shit himself.

“You dirty fucker.” Danny dragged him to the bathroom and into the tub, positioning him so his head rested below the rim.  The blocking drug made things almost too easy. He put the plug in and turned the cold water on. “I guess I’ll see you later. That is if I come back in time.”

Danny left the bathroom and stopped in the middle of the now vacant front room. The picture window framed a stupendously star-filled sky.

“The calm before the storm.”

Danny smiled and sauntered to the dining room where the contents of his duffle bag lay strewn across the table. He set the lantern down and pulled the pocket doors closed. Armed with a hammer and several wooden planks he’d leaned against the wall, he began nailing one at a time across the doors. Several minutes later, he stood back and shrugged, having used all eight planks when three would have sufficed.

So what if it’s overkill? I’m the boss and I make the rules.

“I’m a little worried. He’s too quiet in there.” Randy took the binoculars off the car’s roof. He focused them and then checked each window. Nothing stirred indoors or out, not even the leaves on the trees.

The calm before the storm.

A guy from the special task force ran over and squat between them.

“He’s blocked a window with a mattress on the second floor. Maybe that’s where he moved Becca and Jacob.”

The chief’s radio crackled. “Chief, he’s closed off the doors leading into the front room. We believe he’s in the dining area now. Even if we get inside, we have to get through those doors. The guy has been hammering away for the past twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Tim. Keep an eye on him.”

“Copy that.”

“The fucker’s nesting—getting everything set up for the long haul.” Randy flicked the toothpick away that he’d been chewing on for the past hour.

“If he’s busy doing that, he’s not bothering Jacob or Becca.” Chief rolled his neck.

Randy stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. They were biding time for daylight. The EMT had left with six of their men in body bags. They couldn’t chance another attempt and set off another of Danny’s traps.

The Florist was far from stupid. He knew if Jacob and Becca were with him, they wouldn’t be planning an ambush.

Chief put a hand to the small of his back as he stood hunched over, out of sight. “It will be dawn soon, and then the real show can get started. I need to take a leak.” He wobbled off down the side of the barn.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A stream of sunlight from the top of the window nudged her eyes open only for her to shut them again. A streak of white lightning ripped through her skull. Becca quickly remembered her circumstances where she laid on the floor still taped to the chair, the iron leg of the bed only inches from her head.

She lay listening for any clue to what was going on outside or, for that matter, inside. The door rattled and remained closed. She tried to turn her head, but couldn’t. A few short seconds passed before it rattled again.

“Danny? Is that you? What are you doing out there?”

Becca strained to hear. No, it couldn’t be...could it?

“Jacob?” She held her breath. “Is that you out there?”

“Sssss....”

She gasped.

The door rattled again, the lock clicking and the door banging open. Jacob half-crawled into the room, leaving a trail of water in his wake. He kicked the door shut and collapsed on the floor. He took long, shaky breaths through his nose, his body visibly trembling.

“Jacob, I know you’re hurt, but Danny could come back any moment. You need to help me free my hands. Can you do that for me?”

He grimaced with every movement as he dragged himself over to her and  started working at the tape.

“If you can get one of those springs off of the bed frame, the pointed end should cut through it.”

In spite of his many injuries, Jacob unhooked a spring and sliced into the bindings. It took a little doing, but he finally managed to find the end and began unravelling it from her body.

“Once my hands are free, I can take over.”

Her heart ached at the pain she saw in his eyes.

It seemed to take an awfully long time before the tape loosened enough for her to dig the phone from her pocket and press redial.

“We need a distraction.”

“Becca?” His voice cracked.

The sound of Randy’s voice made her heart ache. “We need your help. In five minutes you need to create a diversion so we can get the hell out of here.” She hit END, not wanting to risk Danny finding it. She was already worried he’d see the water puddles Jacob had left.

He lay on his side now, breathing hard, eyes closed. Beads of perspiration covered his face. She quickly peeled the tape from her legs and righted the chair to finish taking the remaining adhesive strips from around her waist.

“Jacob, the cops are going to create a diversion.” Becca hurried to the window and pushed the mattress aside. She blinked rapidly into the morning sun’s rays. They were on the second floor, and below them a small roof hung over the mudroom.

“If I can get this open, I think we can throw the mattress on the roof below and jump to it easily enough.”

Jacob moaned  and briefly closed his eyes; exhaustion played on every feature of his tortured face. He’d been through hell and back, and now she wanted him to jump out a window.

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out. The minute we hear anything, it’s time to make a move. Okay?”

The door suddenly burst open, and Danny appeared before them.

“How the hell did you get up here?” Spittle sprayed from his mouth, and he firmed his hold on a gun, aiming at Jacob’s head.

“Don’t do it, Danny. He was only trying to protect me.” She stood slowly. “You know there’s no escape, but it’s up to you how far this will all go.”

Danny turned the pistol on her. “You’re right. He was only trying to help you. It’s always all about you, Detective.” He looked down his nose at her. “I should have done this long ago.”

He pulled the trigger.

Gunshot deafened the small room. In the same instant Danny took his shot, Jacob grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the ground. He quickly rolled on top of her just as another shot resounded in the small space. An explosion rocked the house, and Danny bolted from the room. Becca gasped for breath, the weight of Jacob having knocked the wind from her.

“Jacob?” A sickening feeling churned in the pit of her stomach. She pushed Jacob off of her, laying him on his back. The rise and fall of his chest she’d come to rely on rose and fell no more. Blood seeped out from beneath him. Becca inched her way back until she hit the wall and buried her face in her hands.

A burst of gunfire forced her to set aside her grief and prompted her to act.

Danny will not take my life today. Jacob’s sacrifice will not be in vain.

Becca worked at opening the window. Below, a number of officers in tactical gear ran single file to the back of the house.

“Argh!” She used her pent-up anger and frustration to force it open, rewarding her with layers of paint cracking until it finally gave way. She pushed out the screen and watched it tumble to the ground.

Becca wrestled with the mattress until she finally had it lain over the windowsill and slid it out, landing on the roof below like she’d hoped. She took one last look back at Jacob’s still form.

“Thank you.” The words stuck in her throat on her way through the opening. She jumped.

Pandemonium surrounded the farmhouse. Smoke and clouds of dirt and debris made it almost impossible for Randy to see what impact the onslaught of bullets had ensued.

Chief gave the order to cease fire. An eerie silence fell upon the acreage as the dust settled, giving them a better look at the back of the house where the clapboard had been shredded and the glass shattered. However, there was no sign of Danny.

“Do you think we got him?” Randy’s pulse raced as he scanned the ruins for signs of life.

“Let’s find out.” Chief spoke into his radio. “Send a couple of men in full gear to investigate.”

Almost immediately two men ran forward in sync. Out from the rubble staggered Danny with gun in hand, a huge smile plastered on his blackened face.

“Freeze! Drop your gun!” The bigger man shouted out.  Both men went down on one knee and took aim. “Drop the gun and put your hands up.”

“It’s been fun, gentlemen.” Danny spun on his heel and shot into the house. An explosion rocked the ground, and everyone ran for cover.

Randy looked over the hood of Danny’s car to find the entire back engulfed in flames and Danny nowhere in sight. Surely he didn’t survive that one.

“Becca.” Randy jumped to his feet and set off running only to be manhandled to his knees.

“I can’t let you go in there. We did the best we could, my friend.”

Chief’s words did little to console him. After everything they’d been through, to lose her like this.... Randy buried his face in his hands and choked on a sob, a gaping hole in his heart.

Chief’s radio sounded. “We’ve got her. We need the EMT stat to the east side of the property.”Alan spoke hastily.

Randy ran with the EMT to a cluster of men by the tree line. A smoking mattress lay off to one side. He pushed his way through the growing crowd and stopped suddenly. A plethora of emotions battled within him to find Becca lying on the ground. A few wisps of her once luxurious red hair clung to a badly blistered scalp. The rain suit she wore was literally melted to her side. Men in white uniforms worked quickly, bandaging her wounds and monitoring vitals.

An ambulance with its lights flashing crossed the property and stopped a few feet shy of them. The emergency personnel carefully moved her to a stretcher and covered her with a silver, quilted blanket. Randy forced his way through to where they lifted her into the back. He tried to climb up inside only to be dragged back by fellow officers.

“Get off of me!”  He struggled to break free. “Becca!”

“You got to give them room to do their job.”

The chief’s voice of reason ended his fight. He watched in horror as one of the attendants inside pressed his hands to Becca’s chest and started pumping. In the next instant, the doors closed and the truck sped away with lights flashing.

If there was any doubt in Randy’s mind that he loved her, there wasn’t now. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. Tears slid down his face unchecked as he turned to face the chief. “I can’t lose her.”

His friend put an arm across his back and ushered him back through the crowd. “Well then we best get to the hospital and make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Randy’s time in the burn unit had to be the most heart-wrenching experience of his life. He’d seen more than his fair share of trauma, but nothing remotely akin to what he’d witnessed over the past twenty-four hours.

The double doors to his right burst open. The scent of burnt flesh assaulted him. A child being whisked in cried out for his mother to make the pain stop. A shiny, insulated pad like they’d covered Becca with cocooned the small body. Within seconds they disappeared through the same set of doors they’d wheeled Becca through what seemed a lifetime ago.

The thought of her in that kind of pain was enough to bring him to his knees. Thankfully they were keeping her in an induced coma. The fabric of the rain suit had fused with her skin compounding the severity of her condition.

Dr. Swanson walked down the corridor toward him. The physician removed his surgical garments and passed them to a nurse keeping pace beside him. He sat heavily in the chair next to Randy and rubbed his eyes. His silver hair looked like he’d just gone for a ride on a motorcycle without a helmet.

“How is she, Doc?” Randy had fully intended on letting him speak first.

“We’re going to keep her induced for now. The dead tissue and fabric has been removed, and I’m pretty sure she’ll need skin grafts to her upper arm and thigh. Right now our biggest concerns are infection and dehydration, which is why we’ve put her in an isolation tent and are pumping fluids in her intravenously. She fractured her tibia, but luckily the bone structure isn’t displaced. We’ve got her leg in traction so there’s no chance of anything shifting.” The doctor put a hand to the back of his neck and rolled his head around. “She’s got a long and painful road ahead of her, if she makes it.”

Randy went rigid. “What do you mean, if she makes it?”

He sighed wearily. “Her body has been through severe trauma. We’ll keep a close eye on her tonight and, if all goes well, we can eliminate the threat of her going into shock.”

Randy blew out a long breath, blinking his burning eyes. “I want to see her.”

“You won’t be able to go inside the tent. She won’t know you’re there.”

“I don’t care. The last time I saw her someone was pumping on her chest, and now you’re telling me she might not make it through the night.” His voice cracked. “I just need to see her, to know she’s really here.”

Dr. Swanson nodded, and his nurse led Randy to wash up. Nobody could pass through the doors without doing so, despite the fact he wasn’t going in the tent. Once scrubbed, he put on a gown and followed the woman to a small, glass-encased room.

“Push that button if you need me or when you’re ready to leave.” The nurse left him alone, closing the door firmly behind her.

Becca lay in a tent-like structure hooked up to several machines. Her entire body seemed wrapped in stark white gauze, only her red face visible.

“What I wouldn’t give to see those beautiful green eyes of yours.” Randy splayed his hands on the glass, praying she’d somehow feel his energy.

“You’re not alone, Red. We’ll get through this together, baby, if you’ll let me.”

He hung his head. None of it mattered if she didn’t survive the night.

If you harm one hair on her head... “Oh, my God.” Did I say that one time too many and somehow aided in it coming true? An overwhelming sense of powerlessness consumed him and he fell back in a chair. For the first time since he was a child, he closed his eyes and prayed.

Becca’s nurse convinced him to go home to shower and get some sleep, with the promise she’d call him if her condition changed no matter how little. At five in the morning, he rode into his garage. After a long, hot shower, he stretched out on his bed, but sleep eluded him. Every time his eyes closed, he’d see Becca lying in the hospital fighting for her life.

The clock on his bedside table read seven a.m. when he finally gave in to the call of the open road. He could think of no better remedy for his state of mind. On more than a few occasions, the magic of the wind had been his saving grace.

Half an hour later, he rode through the sleepy streets. All the tension in his body ebbed as it dissipated in the breeze that rushed around him. The phone in his shirt pocket vibrated, and he pulled over to the curb to answer it.

“Hey, Randy, I thought you’d be up. How about meeting me for a coffee at the hospital?”

He heard the exhaustion in the chief’s voice. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Everything’s alright isn’t it?”

“No worries. Becca is holding her own.”

Randy pulled out into the street and realized the chief didn’t really answer his question. If it wasn’t Becca, what could possibly be wrong? He reached the hospital and parked around back in the reserved parking for police and other government officials.

The sounds of the waking hospital greeted him. Nurses with carts delivering morning medication rolled down the otherwise barren hallways. Only a handful of people were scattered throughout the cafeteria. Staring off into space, seemingly deep in thought, Chief sat up against the wall at the far end of the room.

The heavenly scent of coffee lured Randy to the counter where he filled an extra large cup, black, desperate for the full caffeine effect. It wasn’t until his chair scraped against the tile that the chief looked his way with a start, slopping his drink down the front of his t-shirt.

“You know, it’s not nice to sneak up on people like that.”

Randy chuckled. “Who said I was nice?”

Chief scowled and made a futile attempt to rub the stain out with a napkin. “Becca’s nurse sounded hopeful she’s out of danger. Our Becca’s a tough one. I just hope she’s strong enough for the long road ahead of her.”

“With a little help from her friends, she just might be okay.”

Chief pressed his lips firmly together. He looked like he was going to say something but thought better of it. His expression grew serious.

“I have something to tell you....”

Chapter Thirty

After three weeks in isolation and a skin graft to her arm and thigh, Becca was finally moving to a room of her own, which meant he’d be allowed to visit. The doctor was very adamant only one visitor at a time for no longer than fifteen minutes. He couldn’t stress enough how important her psychological well-being played in her recovery.

In just a few minutes Randy would actually see her face to face for the first time in weeks. He was prepared to keep positive and not bring up any topic that might upset her. He prayed she didn’t ask any questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, at least not right now.

Becca’s door opened, and her nurse stepped out. “You have fifteen minutes. She’s a little groggy from the pain medication. Remember, don’t upset her.” She waggled her finger at him like a protective mother.

Randy flashed a smile and inched his way past her into the room. Becca lay with her eyes closed, an angel swathed in white. The bandages hid the extent of her burns. He slowly made his way up to her bedside and gazed down on her.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him with such tenderness it brought tears to his eyes. He lightly pressed his lips to her cool forehead before stepping back to pull up a chair.

“It’s good to see you,” she rasped. Her gaze travelled to a bowl of ice on the table by her bed.

“Do you want some?”

She nodded slightly and parted her lips. The medication was obviously doing its job. In fact, she looked a little spaced out like she’d just smoked a joint. He tipped an ice chip off the end of a spoon and into her mouth.

“You don’t know what a relief it is to see your beautiful eyes.” Randy squelched the rush of emotion rising up in him. “Are you in much pain?”

She smiled. “Not at the moment.” Becca frowned as she eyed him up and down. “You look like shit.”

He laughed. “Now there’s my Becca. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“When is the last time you slept?”

“I have a feeling I’ll be able to sleep like a baby tonight. You had us all worried.”

Her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He cupped the side of her face and watched her slip back into slumber. He pressed his lips to her forehead once again. “I love you, Becca.”

Randy cleared his throat and walked quietly to the door, taking one last glance back before leaving the room. There was lightness in his step, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders. He’d been so worried about how she’d react to him. Even with the amount of drugs they pumped into her, he caught a glimpse of the Becca he’d come to love.

But now was not the time to tell her.

With her fingertips, Becca’s feathered the bandages covering her head. Her beautiful purple wisteria tattoo peeked above the gauze wrapped around her arm. What will my tattoos look like once my burns heal?

Her leg rested in a suspended sling, the extent of her burns still a mystery behind the dressing. She couldn’t even venture a guess as her pain was controlled by drugs. A line from an old Pink Floyd song played over and over in her mind. ‘I have become comfortably numb.’

“Good morning, Becca.” Dr.Swanson breezed into the room. “How’s my favourite patient doing today?”

“How would I know? You’ve got enough juice pumping into me to keep a whole football team high for a week.”

He chuckled and jotted something down on her chart. “I can definitely decrease the dosage, but I warn you, you’re going to feel like you’ve been hit by a truck and barbequed.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine today.”

“Why don’t we take a look under those bandages before making any changes, okay?”

Becca nodded rendered speechless at the mere thought of seeing her burns. Her eyes filled with tears.

Dr. Swanson called for a nurse to assist and then sat at the edge of Becca’s bed. “Before we do this, I want you to remember it won’t look this way forever.” He squeezed her hand. “I give you my word.”

She smiled weakly, afraid to speak for fear of losing the last thread of her composure. Tiny scissors snipped away at the gauze. The sensation of air against her burns brought bumps to her skin.

“There we go.” The doctor stepped back and stroked his jaw. “It’s going to heal quite nicely, Becca.”

“Can I see?” Nurse Debbie stood on the other side of her bed and passed a long-handled mirror to her. The doctor covered her hand with his.

“Remember, it needs time to heal and won’t look like this forever.”

Becca swallowed hard before lifting the mirror. She clamped her hand over her mouth as she tried to process the image looking back at her. Angry welts covered her scalp, where long red hair once grew.

Becca let her gaze travel from the doctor to the nurse and back to her reflection. Through a veil of tears she stared in disbelief, not knowing what to say or how to react.

“Cover it up.” She spoke softly.

“Now, Becca, remember....”

She held a hand out to halt his words. “Please, can you just do it?”

The nurse worked quickly to redress her scalp.

“Now let’s take a look at that arm.”

Her head snapped up and she glared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Who do you think I am, Super Woman?” She turned to face the window. “I can’t. Not now.”

“Try to get some rest. I’ll come back in the morning to change the dressings on your arm and leg.”

It wasn’t until they were gone she allowed her tears free rein. Her hand trembled as she smoothed it over her clean bandages. She never considered herself a vain woman, but what she’d just saw....

A profound sadness enveloped her. She pressed the button to lower the bed and settled into her pillow, pulling the covers up over her face. She cried like she’d never wept before. Tears flowed for her burns and the lives lost that horrendous day. She cried for Randy and what could have been a beautiful thing between them. Finally, her eyelids drooped.

Maybe when I wake up, everything will be back to normal....

Chapter Thirty-One

Randy wandered aimlessly about the shopping mall with no idea what to get Becca. Flowers were definitely not an option. Will we ever come to appreciate the beauty in them again?

A flash of color caught his attention and he turned to look into a novelty shop of sorts. A smile played on his lips as he walked toward the perfect gift sure to bring a smile to her face.

He carried Becca’s present through the mall aware of people’s stares and giggles behind their hands. It wasn’t until he stepped outside that he realized he’d ridden his motorcycle. Randy looked at the item and then at his bike.

How in the hell am I going to pull this off?

After a few minutes and a couple of bungee cords, he managed to strap it to the backrest. He carried on like nothing was out of the ordinary and rode through town to laughter and even applause from the sidewalks. He pictured what he must look like and had to snicker as well.

He finally reached the hospital, and strolled inside to the elevator where everyone chuckled at him but not one person asked him about the present he carried.

The hospital was abuzz with visitors. His pulse quickened the closer he came to her room. He paused just outside the door and drew in a steadying breath before going in.

“Becca?” She reclined with her back to him. “It’s Randy, are you awake? Becca?”

“Go away!”

He set her present in an empty chair and rushed to her bedside. “Becca? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Just go. I want to be left alone.” She pulled the sheet up to hide her face.

“Don’t ask me to leave you like this.” He pulled up a chair to sit at her level. “I love you, Becca. If something’s wrong I want to try and help.”

“Argh!” Becca threw her sheets back and sat upright, clawing at her head bandages until she was able to tear them away from her blistered scalp. “Can you fix this?”

Randy’s jaw dropped and he fell back in his chair. Her sudden outburst rendered him speechless. Seeing her burns for the first time brought tears to his eyes for the pain she must be in.

“What? Nothing to say?” Her chest heaved and angry tears streaked her face. “Why don’t you just leave, the freak show is over!”

Becca’s nursed ran into the room and glared at Randy. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I...I don’t know what happened?” He searched the nurse’s face.

Becca buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.

“You need to leave now, Detective.”

Utterly dumbfounded, he made his way to the door. The nurse now had her fingers on Becca’s wrist and rubbed her back with her free hand.

Randy paused at the door. “Becca?”

The nurse scowled at him and pointed to the door. “You were warned about upsetting her. As of now, visiting rights are revoked—”

“But—”

“Indefinitely.”

Becca stared at the three-foot-tall pink, stuffed pig through a veil of tears. Almost three weeks had passed since sending Randy away, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of the leather-adorned Miss Piggy.

She’d healed considerably over time. It looked like her scars would be hidden, but the new hair was nothing like her thick tresses before the fire. It was now strawberry blonde. Dr. Swanson couldn’t predict how it would grow in for good.

For the first couple of weeks she barely noticed the lack of visitors being all drugged up, but now the days grew longer and all she could think about was Randy.

A light rap on the door interrupted her thoughts. Nurse Debbie stood in the doorway.

“Hi, Becca.” She clasped her hands and smiled sweetly. “I know you asked for no visitors, but there’s someone waiting who I think you’re going to want to see. He’s also a patient here.”

Becca arched a brow, her curiosity piqued. She straightened her sheets and made sure her head scarf was in place before nodding.

“Okay.”

Becca actually held her breath. She saw the wheelchair before the patient. Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes widening, and tears spilled down her cheeks as she gaped in disbelief. Jeffery pushed the wheelchair where Jacob smiled awkwardly at her. It looked like someone had taken a permanent marker and evenly dotted his top and bottom lips to match.

“Jacob?” Her voice cracked. “Oh, my God, I thought you were....”

He raised a hand. “Did you really think you’d get rid of me that easily?” He sniffled.

Jeffery crossed the distance between them and gathered her in his arms. “I am so happy to see that you’re okay.”

Sobs racked Becca as she clung to him. “I can’t...how did...”

“Okay, enough tears. You’re looking pretty good, Becca. How are you really?” Jacob wiped a tear from his cheek.

“Wait a minute. How did you possibly survive the gunshot...and the fire?”

“I think a guardian angel watched over him. By all rights he should be dead.” Jeffery wheeled his lover to the bedside where Jacob took her hand in his.

“I don’t know how I survived,” Jacob explained. The last thing I remember is you climbing out that window, and then I’m waking up in the hospital looking like a human pin cushion.”

Becca shuddered with the memory of Danny on top of him sewing his mouth shut. She forced the image away.

“Let’s not go there right now. All that really matters is that we both made it.” He smiled. “Randy must be over the moon.”

Tears welled up, and she looked away, her bottom lip wobbling.

“What is it? He’s happy, isn’t he?”

Over the next half hour or so Becca tried to explain why she sent Randy away and stopped accepting visitors. He sat quietly, not saying a word.

“Well, if you’re done feeling sorry for yourself, pick up that phone and tell him to come and see you.”

Becca sniffled and narrowed her gaze at him. “Just like that?”

He nodded. “Just like that.”

Chief sat behind his cluttered desk, an open file in front of him. Randy went straight for the coffee.

“Good morning, Chief.” He put the mug under his nose and inhaled the rich aroma. “Mmm, if God made anything better than coffee, He kept it for Himself.”

“Do you want me to leave the two of you alone?” The chief peered over the rim of his reading glasses.

“Ha ha.” He smirked and sat across the desk from his boss. The coffee tasted even better than it smelled. “So what’s on the agenda today?”

Chief nodded toward a pile of files. “Paperwork, unless something comes up.”

“Oh, goodie.” His phone chimed. Randy reached into his front pocket and flipped it open. His breath hitched. The number for the hospital flashed on his screen.

His boss removed his glasses. “Who is it?”

“The hospital.”

“Well, maybe you should answer it?”

Randy noticed a slight tremor of his hand when he pushed the button. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Randy?”

“Yes, um, who is this?”

“It’s Jacob. I think it would be a good idea for you to come and visit Becca soon.”

His jaw dropped. Had he heard him correctly? “Why do you think that? She didn’t exactly roll out the welcome mat last time I was there.”

“She’s making remarkable progress. You might be interested in knowing Becca was asking about you and she feels really bad about how she treated you.”

“That is welcome news. Thank you. I’ll stop by and see you soon.” Randy flicked his cell closed. He sat staring at it, trying to figure out if her wanting to see him was a good or bad thing.

“Is Becca okay?” Chief took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “That was the hospital, right?”

“Yes. I, um...” Randy shook his head. “Yes, it was Jacob. He wanted me to know Becca feels bad about how she treated me. He thinks it would be a good idea for me to pay her a visit.”

“What are you doing here? Don’t you think you should get over to the hospital right away?”

Randy shrugged and took another sip of coffee. “I don’t know what to think. Do you have any idea what it did to me when she said she didn’t want me around last time I saw her? I don’t ever want to feel that kind of pain again.”

“You aren’t seriously going to hold that against her, are you? For God’s sake, look at all the poor girl woke up to. Wouldn’t you be a little messed up if it were you?”

“Don't you think I know that? It broke my heart to see her like that.”

Chief pushed his chair away from the desk and stood. He hiked up his pants that somehow slid past his belly whenever he sat. “Let’s go, then.”

“You’re coming, too?” Randy straightened in his chair.

“Why not? I’ll go visit with Jacob while you see Becca. Once I’m through, I’ll come and see her, too.” He frowned. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you want to see her?”

“Yes and no.” Randy heaved a sigh. “Jacob wouldn’t have called if she didn’t say something to encourage him, don’t you agree?”

His boss laughed and grabbed his arm, helping him to his feet. “How in the hell would I know? I can tell you this much, you aren’t going to find out sitting there playing twenty questions.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

“Good morning, Becca. How do you feel about a change of scenery today?” Nurse Debbie bustled into the room carrying a neatly folded selection of clothes, topped with stark-white runners.

“You’re letting me go home?” Becca’s pulse quickened and her palms grew sweaty. “I don’t understand?”

“No, you’re making remarkable progress, but it’s a little too soon for you to be leaving us.” She pulled the curtain around the bed. “However, Dr. Swanson thinks some fresh air will do you a world of good.”

Becca dressed in black yoga pants and a long-sleeved white t-shirt, while her nurse paid special attention to ensure her bandages were completely covered. Socks and runners felt foreign after being barefoot for so many weeks.

“I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. What day is it?”

Her nurse taped the last pad of gauze in place. “We want to be extra careful you don’t get an infection.” She took the chart from the end of her bed. “Let’s see, not including today, you’ve been here six weeks.”

“I never would have guessed that long. Time sure flies when you’re having fun.”

Nurse Debbie stepped out into the hall and returned pushing a wheelchair. “You’re chariot awaits, my dear.”

Becca offered a weak smile, not exactly thrilled with having to use one of those contraptions. She’d only been allowed to put weight on her leg a few days ago. Resignedly and with the aid of her nurse, she shuffled alongside her bed and plunked herself down in the seat. The simple task left her breathless.

Her nurse laughed light-heartedly. “Don’t you worry. You’ll be starting physical therapy soon and will be good as new in no time at all.”

Becca took slow, measured breaths on the way down the barren hallway. Nurse Debbie took the elevator down to the main floor and followed an arrow marked: Courtyard.

She shielded her eyes from the sun as they crossed the threshold to the outdoors. The sweet aroma of freshly cut grass and rose bushes in full bloom filled her senses. She tilted her head back and revelled in the sun’s warmth on her face. “This was an excellent idea.”

“I think so, too.”

Becca’s eyes flew open. Her chair was spun around to face Randy, who kneeled down to her level. His lips twisted in the same lopsided grin that had first attracted her to him.

“Randy.” She choked on his name and cleared her throat noisily in a futile attempt to mask her emotions. “I don’t.... I mean, I’m sorry.”

Randy pressed a finger to her lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, and how happy I am Jacob called me this morning.

Emotion clouded his expressive brown eyes.

She couldn’t have stopped the tears if she tried. “I’m very happy you came.”

He gathered her in his arms. “I’ve missed you, Becca.” He nuzzled her neck, sending tiny impulses across her skin.

She manoeuvred awkwardly from the wheelchair. Randy, always so perceptive, lifted her from the chair and onto his lap. She laid her head against his chest, happy to feel the connection between them renewed.

Randy was first to pull away. “I have something I want to show you.”

Becca noted the devilish glint in his eyes and narrowed her gaze suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

He stood with her cradled in his arms and set her back down in the wheelchair so gently she wondered if he thought she might break. He guided her through the courtyard and around the side of the building.

Her jaw dropped as the sight unfolded before her. Sunshine glinted off the chrome of a midnight blue trike, the passenger bench padded in leather. “Is this for real?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yup, Doc gave me permission to take you on a short ride as long as we are careful to keep your burns covered. He scooped her out of the chair and set her on the warm leather seat. “That is, if you’re up to it.”

She smiled lovingly at him. “I don’t know why you’re doing this for me. Not after the way I treated you.”

Randy put a finger under her chin and raised it so she had to look into his eyes. “I love you, Becca. No matter how hard you try to push me away, I’m going to be here for you.” He pressed his lips to hers in a long, drugging kiss.

He let her go, leaving her breathless. “Are you going to take me for a ride or do you just want to make out right here?”

“That’s pretty tempting, but I don’t want to get on your doc’s bad side. He picked up a helmet from behind her and handed it over. His hung from the handlebars. Randy retrieved a blanket from beside her and laid it across her lap.

“Is this really necessary? It’s hardly weather to be snuggling under a blankie.”

“Just humor me, will you?”

Randy hiked his leg over and straddled the bike, bringing it to life with the turn of a key. She closed her eyes, and placed her hands flat on the seat, revelling in the familiar rumble beneath them.

“Are you ready?” Randy called back to her.

Becca gave him a thumbs up in his mirror. Overcome with emotion, she wiped the tears from her eyes as he rode away from the hospital toward the lakeside.

She titled her face upward to welcome the sun’s kiss to her cheeks, the magic in the gentle breeze swirling around her. The ride proved more healing than any doctor’s prescription.

Randy kept an eye on her in the mirrors. It warmed his heart to see her eyes closed and a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. He’d taken a gamble she’d be receptive to his offer. Since she had her own bike for years, he imagined she looked to her ride for comfort during times of crisis.

As much as he treasured this time with her, a dark cloud still lingered above him. It was time she knew the truth. Only then could they move on with their lives together.

He picked a nice spot by the lake to spread out the blanket and settle Becca with her back against a shade tree. He grabbed a couple bottles of water from the bike, sat beside her, and then took a long drink.

She put a hand on his leg. “What’s wrong?”

Damn, I forgot how intuitive she is. He shuddered. He’d battled long and hard about telling her, but knew secrets had a way of coming out at the most inopportune times. No, he needed to suck it up and come clean.

“Randy,” Becca cupped the side of his face. Concern lined her brow. “Something’s wrong. I see it in your eyes.”

He sighed and took her hand away, kissing her open palm before resting it on her lap. “I’m trying to tell you something you need to know.”

“Please, Randy, you’re scaring me.”

“I know we agreed not to talk about that day, but there’s something we haven’t told you.”

He clasped her hand in his, briefly shut his eyes, and nodded definitively. “He’s alive.”

Her eyes grew big. “Who’s alive?”

“Danny. He suffered burns over eighty percent of his body. Nobody thought he’d survive.”

Panic seized her as she looked in every possible direction. “Where is he?”Her breaths came too quickly and she gasped for air.

“You have nothing to worry about. He’s in the Langford Asylum for the Criminally Insane. That place is locked up tighter than Alcatraz. He’ll never be a free man.”

“Have you seen him? How do you know for sure?” Her cheeks stained pink and she narrowed her gaze on him. “Didn’t you think I had a right to know long before now?”

Randy noted the fire building in her eyes. “At first they didn’t even tell me. They were sure he’d died. It wasn’t until he was being transferred to the Asylum.... I’m sorry Becca. Maybe I should’ve told you, but you were in so much pain. I just couldn’t bring myself to add to it.”

“Are you telling me he was in the same hospital with me and not one person let me in on it?” She used the tree as leverage to try and stand.

Randy jumped to her aid, taking hold of one arm to help her up. “Aw, come on, Becca. We were only thinking of the shape you were in. We didn’t want to add to your trauma. Please don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not sure who I’m angry with. All I know is that the maniac, who almost killed Jacob and me, the same maniac who sewed eight mouths shut, one of which I was forced to watch, was just down the fucking hall from me and nobody breathed a word of it.”

Randy tried to pull her into his arms but she wanted no part of it and shrugged his hand away. “Just take me back to the hospital. All of a sudden I don’t feel very well.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Becca hated asking Randy for some space, but she needed time to digest his news. Now, for the third night in a row, she woke drenched in sweat, an image of Danny at the end of her bed with sewing needle in hand all too real. His face was disfigured from the fire like the gnarled bark of a hundred-year-old tree, but there was no denying the same madness danced in his eyes.

The first sounds of life came from outside her door. She needed to see Jacob today and find out if he’d been told yet. Like her, he deserved to know. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became of what she wanted to do.

“Good morning, Love. You’re up early again. Did you have another bad dream?”

Becca nodded and pulled herself up to sitting position. She told Debbie all about the news Randy broke to her. She’d been in the hospital over two months now and they’d created a solid bond.

Nurse Debbie gave her the usual pills and a cup of water. She waited for her to take them before turning to leave.

“Try not to worry so much. I’m sure once you’re home in your own bed things will get back to normal.”

“Yah, like when is that going to happen?”

The nurse paused at the door and turned to face her. “Well, if all goes well, maybe sooner than you think.”

Becca looked down her nose at her. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“A little bird told me your doc is coming in this morning to check how you’re healing. If he’s happy, you might just get your walking papers.”

“ Hallelujah. Finally some good news!”

She had mixed feelings about leaving the hospital. Of course she’d be happy to go home, but that meant leaving the hospital where she felt safe and not alone. Becca straightened her back and swallowed the fear rising in her.

No, I will not let him have any power over me. He’s no longer a threat, or is he?

A knock on the door stole her attention and she looked up to find Jacob rolling his wheelchair in for a visit.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise. I almost didn’t recognize you without Jeffery.”

Jacob grinned sheepishly. The puncture scars around his lips had lightened considerably. “He’ll be here any time now.”

Becca moved to a chair at her bedside and clasped his hands. “How are you? You’re looking much better.”

“I’m fine.” He diverted his gaze, feigning interest in something out the window.

“Jacob, how are you, really? You can tell me.”

He sighed wearily. “I thought I was well on my way to recovery when all of sudden I start having disturbing dreams.” He leaned towards her and spoke behind his open hand. “I keep seeing Danny. When I wake up, I swear the guy had been standing at the end of my bed.”

Becca’s breath hitched, feeling very spooked. A shiver ran through her. Is he having the same dreams as I am?

“You’re not alone, Jacob. I’m having them too.” Her heartbeat thrummed against her chest. “I guess there’s no easy way to go about this.” She squeezed his hand. “He’s not dead.”

Jacob pulled his hand away as if bitten and wheeled back from her. “Who?”

“You know who. I see it in your eyes.”

“That’s not possible. He can’t be alive. Are you sure?”

“Aside from actually being in the same room with him, yes, I’m sure. They got him locked up in an asylum for the criminally insane.”

The color drained from his face and he sat there shaking his head in disbelief. Slowly he raised his head and looked directly into her eyes. “You know what we have to do, don’t you?”

Becca didn’t have to question him or guess. She nodded.

“I’ll talk to Jeffery and make plans for us all to go.”

“I’m sure the chief can get the necessary clearance we’ll need to get inside.”

Jacob spun around and wheeled to the door. He turned enough to see her. “Here we thought the fucking nightmare was over. We should kill the s.o.b. and be done with him once and for all.”

Randy should have known she’d want to see Danny for herself. The fact the lunatic survived the fire still baffled everyone at the scene. Supposedly, when they first discovered he had a pulse amongst the charred ruins, there was no way in hell they expected him to make it through the night. In hindsight, he was kind of glad he hadn’t known then. He had enough dealing with Becca’s brush with death.

He hadn’t expected Jacob wanting to see him either, and that made him very nervous. How will the two of them react to seeing Danny after everything the bastard put them through?

Randy knocked on the open office door.

Chief turned in his chair and held a finger up. “Yes, that’s right. Thank you for your help.” He set the phone back in its cradle.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving shortly to pick up Becca. I trust you cleared the way for the four of us?”

His boss took off his glasses and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Yes, they will be expecting you.” He pushed away from his desk and leaned back in his chair. “I’m still not convinced this is such a great idea.”

Randy shrugged. “You and I both, but you know Becca once she sets her sight on doing something.”

Chief Thomson chuckled. “Yes, I do. Keep a close eye on her, especially Jacob. God only knows how they’re going to handle seeing Danny again.”

“Will do.” He glanced at his watch. “I better get over there. If I keep her waiting too long she’ll probably leave without me.”

“Good luck, buddy. Better you than me.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Randy stepped outside and took a deep breath. All around him the first signs of fall added a splash of color. Too bad they weren’t taking the bikes. Nothing compared to riding under a canopy of fall colors.

He opened the door and slipped in behind the wheel. At least the SUV was nice and roomy for Becca and Jacob. Randy put down all of the windows and took a deep, cleansing breath before turning the key in the ignition.

Lord, give me strength.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The silence was deafening. Jacob and Jeffery sat side by side in the back seat. Jeffery kept Jacob tucked protectively to his side with an arm draped across his shoulders.

Randy sat behind the wheel nibbling at the inside of his bottom lip. Becca knew he wasn’t crazy about any of this, but he drove them in spite of his reservations. He drove them because he loved her.

“How much further is it?”

“Um, maybe a half hour or so.” He gave her a fleeting glance before shifting his attention back to the road.

Becca winced, turning in her seat enough to look back at Jacob and Jeffery.

“How are you holding up?”

“To be quite honest, I feel like I could puke at any second.”

“Oh, no. Do you want Randy to pull over?”

Jacob put up a hand. “No, I’ve been feeling this way since the day I left your hospital room.”

Jeffery rubbed up and down his partner’s arm. “You don’t have to go through with this. I can go in myself to prove he’s in there.”

Jacob smiled and gazed into his partner’s eyes. “I know you’d do that for me and I love you for that.” He patted his hand and looked back at Becca. “No, this is something we need to do for ourselves.”

“So, you’ll both be happy just to see him from a distance, right? No good can come of having a face-to-face confrontation with the guy.”

Becca looked from Jacob back to him. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t do it, Becca. For me, please.”

His sincerity tugged at her heartstrings but she couldn’t lie to him. “I’m sorry, Randy. I can’t make any promises.”

Randy had a bad feeling about coming here. He turned into the hospital parking lot where a guard checked all of their identifications before letting them in.

After a rather intense discussion between the four of them, both Becca and Jacob promised one thing.  No matter what their decision might be, neither one would go anywhere near Danny alone.

Randy parked the car and they all just sat there looking at one another. He totally understood their need to confront Danny. If it were him, nothing would be able to hold him back.

“Remember your promise.” He gazed intently into Becca’s eyes. “I’m not going to stand in your way, but you have to keep your promise, okay?”

Becca nodded and leaned over to kiss his cheek, whispering next to his ear. “Thank you.”

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her soundly before letting go. “You’re welcome.”

He loved to see the color flood her cheeks. A half smile played on her damp lips as she turned away and opened the door.

He rushed around the front of the truck and helped Becca out. Jacob and Jeffery took a few moments of privacy, while Randy fetched the wheelchair from out of the back. Jeffery climbed out first. He then scooped Jacob into his arms and settled him in the seat.

Jacob frowned, his hands on the arms of the chair. “Is this really necessary? I can walk, you know.”

“You heard what the doctor said. You need to conserve your energy for breathing. Once your lung heals you’ll be back on your feet.”

“If you insist, but I will not let Danny see me in this chair.”

“Okay, guys, deep breath in.... Now let it out nice and slow.”

Each one complied. Randy tucked Becca’s hand in the crook of his arm. “Let’s get this over with.”

A collective gasp filled the small viewing room as the guard pointed out Danny. Becca’s knees buckled and she welcomed Randy’s protective arm pulling her to his side.

Jacob clutched Jeffery’s hands. He gaped at the maniac who had altered his life forever.

Every inch of the man’s exposed skin was charred. God only knew what was going on beneath the toque he wore. Becca instinctively feathered the ends of her hair that now brushed the top of her collar.

She’d never considered herself a vain woman. That was until she awoke with only a few wisps remaining of her long, red hair. She knew it would grow back, but she couldn’t help feeling she was looking at a stranger in the mirror.

“I know it looks bad, but once the scabs fall away it won’t be quite as repulsive.” The doctor turned, facing them. “He’s actually very lucky he still has use of his extremities. Medically it baffles me how he survived with all his fingers and toes intact.”

“What about mentally?”

The doctor put on his glasses and opened Danny’s chart. “From what we can tell, his brain function hasn’t been affected.”

“What do you mean, from what you can tell?” She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Danny.

“He only started speaking three days ago.”

“Can you tell us what frame of mind he’s in?” Jeffery asked the doctor.

Jacob still watched Danny in a trance-like stupor.

Becca rubbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “For the past few days I’ve thought of nothing but how I was going to kill the prick when I saw him.” He looked up at her, his eyes full of confusion. “Look at him. What could I possibly do to make him suffer more than he already is?”

“I guess the question is: do the two of you still want to speak to him face to face?” asked Randy.

Becca crouched beside Jacob’s wheelchair. “Well, what do you want to do?”

Jacob heaved a sigh. “I’m not crazy about seeing all of that up close, but I know if I don’t have the satisfaction of showing him I’m alive and much better off than he is, I’ll regret it.”

“Okay then, let’s get this over with.” She straightened. “Randy, I hope you understand, but I think this is something we should do alone. You can watch from here and come running if need be.”

Randy took her hand in his and gently kissed it. “I’ll be right here. Remember, he has no power over anyone anymore. You two are the ones in control.”

Her eyes misted and she blinked quickly.

The doctor stood with his hand on the door handle. “Whenever you’re ready.”

A uniformed guard turned his key in the lock, allowing them entrance. They’d barely set foot in the room when they were stopped in their tracks by the god-awful smell. Becca repressed the sudden impulse to upchuck. Jacob firmed his hold on her arm, swaying like he might faint.

“Are you okay?” she whispered out the side of her mouth.

He nodded, but the paleness of his skin told otherwise. “What is that smell?

Across the room, a guard approached Danny and ushered him to sit at a table.

The closer they got, the more evident it became where the stench came from. Danny’s blackened skin looked like sun-baked, cracked mud. If she had to guess, the god-awful smell came from the yellowish goo that coated every inch of exposed skin. Whatever kind of ointment it was, she’d never smelled the likes of it. He wore a toque—given her experience she could only speculate he’d also lost all of his hair.

Danny kept his head bowed. He appeared to be feigning interest in his scab-covered hands. He no longer acted like the pompous, self-absorbed killer from the darkest time of her life.

Becca glanced at Jacob. His jaw muscles contracted like he gritted his teeth, the intense anger emanating from him almost palpable.

“Don’t tell me you don’t have the balls to look me in the eye,” Jacob snapped. “Or did you lose them in the fire?”

Danny’s breath came as a breathy shudder. He slowly raised his head and then narrowed his gaze on Jacob. Although he remained silent, there was no denying his intent to unnerve him.

“You have nothing to say, asshole? You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?”

The corner of Danny’s mouth lifted, his eye contact with Jacob never wavering.

Jacob grabbed hold of the table’s edge and hoisted himself up to lean across, right in Danny’s face. “I’m alive, motherfucker. I leave here a free man to get on with my life with Jeffery while you sit in here with your rotting flesh and drug-induced days and nights.”

One of the guards appeared and put a hand on Jacob’s shoulder.”You need to take a seat or leave the room, sir.”

“Not a problem. I’ve seen enough.” Jacob turned and stormed from the room on his own.

Becca looked back at Danny to find him watching her, his face void of expression.

“I didn’t know what to expect today. All I wanted was proof you were indeed alive and would spend the rest of your life locked away.” She stood. “Mission accomplished. Have a nice life.” She put two fingers to her forehead in a wave of sorts and turned on her heel.

“Becca?”

Her breath cut short and she faced him once again.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a nice mouth?”

Her stomach churned. “You’re one sick puppy, aren’t you?”

He winked at her. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Don’t hold your breath. I won’t be back.”

He tossed his head back and silenced the room with his menacing laughter. It carried with her hurried exit from the room.

Chapter Thirty-Five

They rode under a canopy of yellow and orange. A warm breeze brought leaves cascading down. The late afternoon sun pushed through and washed the colors in warmth. Around the next bend, a brilliant red explosion erupted from a bevy of majestic maple trees.

Becca settled in her seat and watched Randy lean into each curve with the ease of a seasoned rider. He signalled, and she followed him in to a rest stop where a roadhouse with a large outdoor deck on the upper level offered a spectacular view of the lake.

Becca’s skin tingled from the wind on her face, a welcome sensation she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much. Randy walked toward her, a slight tinge of red to his already bronzed skin. He smiled, his eyes filled with genuine happiness to be here with her.

She set her helmet on the seat and crossed the distance between them. Becca reached up and clasped her hands behind his neck, kissing him soundly on the mouth. His laughter filled the space between them as she pulled away.

“I’m not sure what brought that on, but I’m sure glad it did.”

Heat warmed her cheeks. “Isn’t this the best day ever?”

He took hold of her hand and led her through the deserted lower level and up to the deck buzzing with life. Luckily for them a young couple left the perfect table at the railing.

A splash of red, orange and gold littered the landscape like an artist’s paintbrush put them there. A robin’s egg sky created the perfect backdrop for the crystalline lake.

Becca inhaled deeply and then let it out slowly. She looked over at Randy to find him gazing at her with such intensity it robbed her of breath. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she asked.

“Yes, and I’m looking at her right now.”

Becca settled in her seat and put her hand in his atop the table. “You’re such an amazing man. I can’t tell you how much your patience and understanding means to me. It takes a special kind of man to step back and give someone the time and space needed to heal. It’s because of you that I’ve come to a point in my recovery where I can actually look in the mirror and be happy with what I see.”

Randy’s eyes filled with moisture. “You’re one of the strongest women I know, Becca. Take all the time you need, as long as you keep a place in your heart for me.”

She gulped, unable to stop the rush of emotion even if she tried. “Take me home.”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “Are you feeling okay? Is it something I said?”

She reached for his hand. How can he not see how much I love him? “No, you don’t understand. I want you to come home with me. Let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

His troubled expression transformed into surprise and elation as he stood and offered his hand. “Let’s go home.”

Randy wasn’t sure what prompted this sudden change in plans but he definitely liked the new direction they were headed. The chemistry between them had ignited. Upon entering the city, a shiver ran from the top of his head to his toes.

Becca turned in her driveway and clicked the garage door opener. Randy pulled in beside her, reminded of the time she wouldn’t let him park inside, telling him he wouldn’t be there long enough to warrant it.

He chuckled to himself. Boy was she wrong.

As he followed the sway of her hips into the house, his pulse raced like a school boy anticipating his first kiss. Easy does it. Let her take the lead in her own time.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a shower.” She smiled suggestively. “Care to join me?”

“No, you go ahead. I had a shower this morning.” He sat at the table and stooped over to remove his boots, looking up to find her standing in the doorway with her mouth open. He laughed. “I’m right behind you.”

“You bugger.” She tossed a dish towel at him and turned on her heel.

Randy set his boots on the mat. He jumped up, taking off his shirt on the way to the bathroom. She stood in the steam-filled room, half dressed, her breasts milky white. He stepped towards her only to be stopped with her hand between them. She fluttered her eyelashes and went down on her knees, slowly undoing his jeans and pushing them down to his ankles for him to step out of them.

Randy cupped her face in his hands, gently persuading her to stand. “My god, Red, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

She smiled and pressed her leg against his erection. “I think I have some idea.”

Randy growled and backed her into the shower, under the warmth raining down on them. He captured a nipple in his mouth, rewarded by her moan. The water ran cold before his legs turned to jelly and Becca leaned heavily against him.

He watched her take an oversized towel and wrap it around her, tucking the end between her breasts.

“Red.”

She looked at him through lowered lashes. “Yes?”

Randy took her face in his hands and tilted it upwards so he could look directly into her eyes. “I love you.”

Her eyesight blurred and her bottom lip quivered. “I love you too, Detective.”

He smiled, happy to finally hear those words from her. He brushed her mouth lightly before pulling her into his arms.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Starving, what do you have in mind?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I think you need some food, old man. You can’t run on empty at your age.”

“Oh, you want to play that game do ya, ol’ lady?”

Becca laughed. On her way out of the bathroom, she dropped her towel and snatched her housecoat from the back of the door.

“You don’t play fair.” Randy’s words were muffled behind the closed door.

Becca padded across the carpet to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Crap.” She frowned at the scarce contents. She’d never enjoyed cooking for just her alone

Her gaze wandered over half a dozen eggs, a quart of milk, cheese, and two bagels.  “Perfect.”

Becca decided to cook a couple of cheese omelettes and toast the bagels. “It’s never the wrong time for breakfast.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Randy eased up behind her and nuzzled her neck.

She set down the knife for the cheese, unable to concentrate with him so close to her. “Mmm, that feels good.”

Randy spun her around and slipped his hands inside her housecoat. He pulled her close so her bare breasts pressed against his damp chest.

“You do realize I can’t cook anything like this.” She giggled.

“I beg to differ.” He swept her off her feet and cradled her in his arms. “I think we can definitely get something cooking between the two of us.”

His lips covered hers in a long, lush kiss as he carried her to the bedroom. Suddenly, he came to a full stop and pulled back from her. He looked into her bedroom, his eyes a tad too bright.

“What’s wrong?” Randy slowly lowered her to stand, and she turned to look in the same direction. “No, no, no.... This can’t be happening again.”

She grabbed his arm, unable to take her eyes off of the disturbing image before her. On her pillow, precisely in the center, lay a long-stemmed, dark purple rose. Her knees buckled, and Randy held her upright with a hand clamped on each arm.

He firmed his hold on her. “Look at me, Red.”

Becca forced herself to meet his gaze.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this together. I promise.”

Her fear quickly turned to anger. A fire erupted within her. “I am going to find the bastard and put an end to this for good.”

“You won’t be alone, Red. We will find him.”

“Yes. Yes, we will.” Becca leaned into his chest and welcomed his steadying embrace. “And when we do find him—I’m going to kill him....”

The End

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Adelle Laudan lives in Southern Ontario with the last of her four children still under her wing. She is keeper of one little diva dog named ChaChi who always manages to make her smile. Adelle is a multi-published author, spanning many genres.

Adelle invites you on the many twists and turns of being a published author. Be sure to fasten your seatbelt, as it’s sure to be a ride you won’t soon forget.

“If I can evoke emotion from my readers, whether it be laughter or tears, I’ve accomplished what I set out to do.”

www.adellelaudan.com

Copyright© 2012 Adelle Laudan

Editor: Faith Bicknell-Brown

ISBN: 10- 148002614X

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away.This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

Content

Laudan Adelle Killer Scents