He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not Page 10

  Later. He’d come back later, maybe tomorrow, or the next day, when there weren’t so many people around.

  For the second time in less than a week, crime scene tape cordoned off a section of the park and a young woman’s body lay broken and discarded among the pine needles. Detectives walked the grid, shoving evidence markers into the ground, and Dr. Cassie Markham processed the body.

  Logan approached the tape, Pierce at his side. They’d both stayed behind at Amanda’s to ensure the decoy worked. Riley had gone ahead to the crime scene and now hurried over to give them his assessment. His constant FBI shadow was there, too—only Riley thought the man was there to assist him. Instead, he was there to keep an eye on Riley.

  “What are we looking at here?” Logan asked as he ducked under the tape.

  “The vic has short blonde hair, hazel eyes. She was killed here, not killed somewhere else and dumped. The only similarities between her and O’Donnell are that both bodies were found in the park and both vics were holding a red rose.”

  “What about the thorns? Was the stem stripped?” Logan held a low-hanging pine branch up for the other two men to walk beneath.

  “No,” Riley said. “It had all its thorns.”

  “COD?” Pierce asked.

  “Gunshot wound. One bullet through the chest, close range. The perp tried to mask the bullet wound by stabbing her post-mortem.”

  “Copycat,” Logan said.

  “Yep,” Riley agreed. “Not a very good one either.”

  Logan frowned. Had Riley’s voice sounded boastful? Or was he just imagining that slight inflection? “Did the vic have a boyfriend?”

  “Husband. Detective Reid is interviewing him at the station. No alibi, fidgety, not too broken up about his wife’s tragic death. Reid’s sure he’ll crack soon.”

  Logan sighed in relief that another woman hadn’t been brutally tortured like Carolyn O’Donnell, although if she had, it would have been quick proof of Riley’s innocence. He’d been under surveillance since leaving the boxcar scene earlier today.

  But regardless of whether this woman was killed by a stranger or by a supposed loved one, she deserved the same professionalism and attention to detail the O’Donnell case was getting.

  He glanced at the lights his officers had rigged. “We’ll need more lights, better lights, to comb a scene like this at night.” Six months as chief of police hadn’t given him enough time to squeeze city hall for a better budget and better equipment.

  “Already on it,” Riley said. “Department of Transportation is bringing some lights. They might have to halt construction somewhere for one night, but they didn’t give me any grief over it.”

  “Good thinking. Let’s get those reporters further back. I don’t want any shots of the vic on the evening news.”

  “You got it.” Riley headed toward the reporters lining the street in front of the park’s main entrance.

  Logan mentally prepared himself for the gruesome scene.

  “Ready?” Pierce asked.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  Chapter Eight

  Amanda bolted upright in bed, panic shooting through her at the unfamiliar furnishings in the room, the unfamiliar smells wafting in from the hallway. Was that coffee? She didn’t drink coffee. Wait, last night, the reporters. She’d had to leave her house.

  Officer Karen Bingham and two FBI agents had escorted her here last night, to Logan’s house, in unmarked cars. Karen was an old family friend and had been in Logan’s house before. She knew where everything was and had insisted on settling Amanda into the master suite.

  In Logan’s bed.

  If Logan came home last night, Amanda hadn’t heard him, and she didn’t know which of the other bedrooms he’d slept in.

  She lingered on the massive four-poster bed, smoothing her fingers across the luxurious, mocha-brown comforter, enjoying the faint scent of soap and aftershave that clung to the silky, rich fabric. The room was decorated in muted golds and browns, entirely masculine, like its owner.

  A glance at the bedside clock told her it was half past seven, an obscenely early hour for her, but she imagined the local police chief would leave for work soon, if he hadn’t already. The ominous words he’d spoken to her last night ran through her head, there’s been another murder.

  She threw the covers back and hopped out of bed, heading toward the master bath. Hopefully she could still catch Logan before he left, so he could tell her what had happened. After a quick shower, she threw on a pair of shorts and a teal blue t-shirt from the suitcase she’d packed last night, and headed downstairs.

  She automatically started to pull her hair forward, but Logan’s admonitions to stop worrying about her scar echoed through her mind. If he didn’t mind her scar, she’d try not to mind either. She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and hurried down the last few steps. Turning toward her right, she followed the smell of coffee to the back of the house where she and Karen had entered last night into an informal eating area next to the kitchen.

  To her disappointment, Logan wasn’t there. Karen was. She was sitting at the round, mahogany table in front of the French doors that led onto the back deck. Amanda remembered there was a matching porch on the front of the old Victorian, but she’d noticed little else last night because the agents had rushed her inside.

  “Good morning,” Karen greeted her as she lowered a coffee mug and a copy of the Shadow Falls Journal. “I hope I didn’t startle you. I did tell you last night I’d be here today, didn’t I?”

  Amanda pulled some of her hair forward. “You didn’t startle me. I’d hoped Logan was still here though. Seems kind of early in the morning for you to start babysitting duty.”

  Karen laughed, the deep-seated lines crinkling around her eyes. “Babysitting huh? I guess you’re not too thrilled about this arrangement.”

  “Nothing personal. I’m used to being alone.”

  “Some fresh coffee will make you feel better. Always works for me.” Karen pushed back from the table and went around the black granite bar into the kitchen. “How do you take it?”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not a coffee drinker.”

  Karen’s brows raised in surprise, as if someone not drinking coffee was a mortal sin. “Water? Soda?”

  “Soda would be great. Thanks.”

  “Coming right up.” Karen opened the refrigerator. She came back carrying a can of Dr. Pepper, which she set on the table in front of Amanda. “Is that okay?”

  Amanda blinked, surprised Logan had her favorite drink on hand. “That’s perfect, actually. Thanks.” She sat down at the table.

  Karen didn’t sit. Instead, she took a long sip of coffee and picked up her newspaper. “I’m here to protect you, not babysit you. I’ll try to stay out of your way most of the time. Lord knows I have plenty of paperwork to catch up on. I’ve set my laptop up in the mother-in-law suite in the front of the house. Yell if you need me.”

  “Wait.” Amanda softened her request with a smile. “I was wondering, about last night, do you know anything about . . . the murder?”

  Karen shook her head. “Not really. By the time Logan got in, it was close to two in the morning. We were both too tired to talk shop. I ended up crashing in the mother-in-law suite instead of going home to Mike, my husband. Logan was gone before I got up.”

  Amanda pulled the soda can towards her and ran her finger across the condensation. “Do you think Logan would mind if we called him?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Karen’s brow crinkled with concern. “Are you worried about your safety? I assure you Logan’s got the best security system around. The entire perimeter of the yard has sensors and cameras. If anyone steps on the grass, we’ll know it. Besides,” she tapped the gun holstered on her belt, “this isn’t just for decoration.”

  “No, no, that’s not it at all,” Amanda hastened to reassure her. She was relieved to hear about the security system, but she was more concerned right now with the murder. She wanted,
needed, to know what had happened. Had the same man who’d attacked her killed another woman? Just the possibility had anger pulsing through her. Had she waited too late to offer her help? Could she have prevented the murder? “I just need to talk to him.”

  Karen shrugged. “Sure, I’ll call the station first and see where he is. I don’t want to call him if he’s interrogating someone and doesn’t want to be interrupted.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  Karen nodded and punched some buttons into her cell phone.

  Amanda drummed her nails on the table.

  The call ended quickly. “He’s not in the station. He’s out in the field, off Mill Cove Road on Black Lake. Not sure why. I’ll go ahead and call his cell.”

  Panic churned in Amanda’s stomach but she fought it down.

  “No,” she said, wincing at how loud her voice sounded. “I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her voice.

  “Something wrong?”

  Yes. Black Lake was where the killer had taken her and Dana, right off Mill Cove Road. Was Logan looking for clues? Was he in the same cabin she’d been in four years ago? The soda can pinged because she was squeezing it so hard. She forced herself to relax her fingers.

  “Amanda, what’s going—”

  “I’m fine.” Amanda shoved the can back and stood. If there was any chance she knew something, going back to Black Lake was probably her best shot to remember whatever it was she might have forgotten.

  Karen obviously didn’t know about her background, at least not enough to realize the significance of where Logan was. Good, that would work in Amanda’s favor. Because otherwise, there was no way Karen would agree to do what Amanda was about to ask her to do.

  Calling Logan now wasn’t an option either. Even though he wanted her to talk about her past, he wouldn’t want her to go to Black Lake, to revisit the cabin where the torture had taken place, where the old Amanda had died and the new one was still struggling to figure out who she was.

  She took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. “Karen, I need a favor.”

  “We’re done here.” Logan glanced around the interior of the cabin. He’d hoped that coming to Black Lake, walking off the crime scene, would give him a new perspective, new insight into what the murderer had thought when he’d brought Dana and Amanda here. But the crime scene was too old. The cabin was dry-rotting. The metal bed Dana had died upon had been hauled away long ago along with anything else that might have helped set the scene.

  “It was worth a look,” Pierce said. “Even this many years later, we could have found something that was missed the first time around. But you know that already. As many courses as you’ve taken at Quantico, you probably know more than me. What did you do, spend every vacation for the past ten years training at the FBI academy?”

  Logan narrowed his eyes at him. “Did you run a background check on me?”

  “Let’s just say I was curious to know why the guy who solved the Metzger case would settle for a chief of police job in a little backwater town like Shadow Falls.”

  “Watch the insults. This is my hometown.”

  Pierce held up his hands in a placating gesture. “No insult intended. Hell, I grew up in Savannah, only moved to Jacksonville a few years ago. Trust me when I say both those places, in spite of their size, have a lot of similarities to this little town. But both of them have enormous opportunities for a career in law enforcement. Shadow Falls doesn’t. So tell me. Why did you come back? And don’t tell me it’s because of that rookie mistake you mentioned the other day.”

  “I didn’t lie when I said that’s why I came back.”

  Pierce leaned back against the lone window and crossed his arms. “That’s one reason. Not the only reason. What happened in New York? Why’d you leave?”

  “Is this going somewhere? Because I have a hell of a lot of work to do if this doesn’t have something to do with the case.”

  “Was it a woman?”

  Logan strode across the cabin and stopped a few feet in front of Pierce. His fists clenched at his side. “You got something to say, Buchanan, say it. Quit pussyfooting around.”

  “All right.” Pierce shoved away from the window sill. “I know you left New York right after your divorce.”

  “So much for respecting my privacy,” Logan sneered.

  “I’ve seen friends go through that rebound stage, fixating on the first pretty woman that passes their way.”

  “I care about this why?”

  “I’ve seen the way you look at Amanda Stockton. I want to be sure that you can keep it professional with her staying at your house. Too much is riding on this investigation to let anything personal get in the way of your thinking.”

  Logan hadn’t been this tempted to slug anyone in years. The only reason he hadn’t hit Pierce yet was because he knew Pierce was only being an ass because he wanted to catch the killer just as badly as he did.

  “What I feel for Amanda is none of your concern. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize this case. All I care about right now is finding the bastard who killed Carolyn O’Donnell.” Logan shoved Pierce.

  Pierce shoved him back.

  “Um, excuse me, boss?”

  Logan and Pierce both whirled around at the sound of Karen Bingham’s voice in the open doorway. Logan let out a string of curses when he saw who was behind her.

  Amanda.

  It took every ounce of courage Amanda had to stand her ground as Logan strode across the cabin toward her, his face as dark as a thundercloud. Her own face felt as hot as the summer sun beating down on her back. She hadn’t heard much, but what she did hear when Karen opened the cabin door was enough for her to realize that Pierce thought Logan was interested in her.

  And Logan hadn’t exactly said he wasn’t.

  “Amanda, you shouldn’t be here.” Logan grabbed her arm and started out the doorway.

  She yanked her arm away from him, gasping when it felt like she’d left half her skin behind. She rubbed her arm and stepped inside the cabin. “Karen didn’t drive me all the way out here for you to send us right back home. I came here for a reason.”

  Logan’s eyes filled with regret. He stopped in front of her and gently reached out, his fingers brushing across her arm, soothing away the burn. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m fine.” She pushed his hand away and took a step back to put some much needed distance between them. “The murder last night, was it . . . the same man who came after me?”

  He shook his head. “No. That woman’s husband killed her. He staged the scene to make it look like our serial killer, but it wasn’t.” He glanced aside at Karen who stood next to Pierce closely watching them. “This could have waited. You shouldn’t have left the house.”

  “Don’t blame Karen. I tricked her.”

  “Tricked me?” Karen said, sounding surprised. “How?”

  Pierce leaned back against the windowsill. “She didn’t tell you this is where she and Dana Branson were taken when they were abducted.”

  Karen’s shocked gasp sounded loud in the tiny cabin. “Boss, I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come out here if I’d known. Come on, Amanda. Let’s go.”

  Amanda evaded Karen’s hand. “No, stop it, all of you. Quit trying to push me around and decide what’s best for me. I’m sick of being coddled and pitied. I’m sick of being treated like a victim. I don’t want to leave. You can’t make me.” She stomped her foot in frustration.

  Pierce coughed into his hand. Karen’s eyebrows were climbing into her hairline. Logan’s mouth twitched. Amanda suddenly realized how silly she’d sounded, yelling “you can’t make me” and stomping her foot like a child. Her face flushed with heat and she glared at Logan, daring him to laugh.

  He cleared his throat, twice. “Okay. Now that we’ve got that settled. Besides asking about the copycat killing last night, why else are you here?”

  The walls of the cabin suddenly felt like they were closing in
on her. She wrapped her arms around her middle and took a good look around the cabin for the first time since she’d been here with Dana. She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. “Last night, when you said there was another murder, I was so scared. I thought another woman had been killed, that it was my fault, because I couldn’t tell you about what happened.”

  “What that maniac does or doesn’t do isn’t your fault,” Logan said, his voice hard.

  “I understand that, I do, but I still feel guilty.” She shrugged. “I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

  His eyes darkened. “It makes more sense than you know. Are you sure you want to do this? Maybe you should wait—”

  “No. I’m ready.” She leaned in close. “Can Pierce and Karen wait outside? If I start talking about . . . what happened . . . I don’t want them to hear—”

  “You don’t have to explain. Give me a minute.” He crossed the room and spoke low to Karen and Pierce. They both left, but a moment later Pierce stepped back inside with two folding chairs, the kind people threw in their trunks for quick trips to the beach. He handed them to Logan, nodded at Amanda, then stepped back out and closed the door.

  Logan set the chairs up in the center of the room then motioned for Amanda to take a seat. He sat down across from her, so close their knees were touching. He didn’t pull away, so she didn’t either.

  “How do we do this?” she asked, her stomach already clenching with dread. “I’m not sure how to start.”

  He studied her, clearly worried. “Let’s start with how you met Dana.”

  “Didn’t I tell you that at the station the other day?”

  “Humor me.”

  She shrugged. If he wanted to start by going over what they’d already discussed, she could do that. “When my parents died, I had to sell the house to settle their debts and finish paying for Heather’s education. She was in Knoxville, going to the University of Tennessee, and her only income was from my parents. I auctioned off the house and everything in it. It was just enough to pay tuition and most of her expenses. She still had to get a part-time job but she made it through, earned her degree.”