He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not Page 15

  She sat on the bed and stared out the window, waiting for Karen to leave the house.

  A few minutes later, Karen stepped into her line of vision and began her patrol of the perimeter of the property.

  Amanda hefted her suitcase and hurried through the house. She turned off the alarm, slipped out the back door and re-armed the alarm before heading for the garage. She didn’t relax until she was in her car and out of the driveway on her way to her house.

  When she was ten minutes from home, she pulled over at a convenience store and convinced the clerk to let her use their phone. Yes, she wanted to go home and get a few things before leaving town, but she wasn’t stupid. If the killer was watching her house, she needed protection. But if she’d asked Karen for help, Karen would have tried to stop her and would have called Logan.

  She didn’t know if the unmarked police car was still down the street keeping an eye on her house, and she didn’t want to rely on men she didn’t know—even if they were police.

  No, what she needed was someone she could trust: someone who would trust her and believe the lie she was about to tell.

  “SFPD, how may I direct your call?” an elderly voice asked upon answering the phone.

  “Detective Riley, please.”

  “One moment.”

  She clutched the phone as she waited, guilt already riddling her for what she was about to do. Riley was a nice guy and she hated to deceive him, but she couldn’t think of any other way.

  “Detective Riley.”

  “Riley? It’s Amanda Stockton.”

  “Amanda? Is something wrong? Logan’s in his office. Do you want me to get him for you?”

  “No, no, I’m sure he’s busy and I don’t want to bother him. Actually, I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

  When Amanda drove up to her house, Riley was just getting out of his car. Perfect timing. She pulled into the driveway behind him.

  He slammed his door shut and stood with an incredulous expression on his face.

  As soon as she shut her car door, he stalked up to her and grabbed her arm. His face was red and he looked like he was struggling to control his temper.

  “Riley, before you yell at me, give me a minute to explain.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not going to yell at you. You can explain why you lied to me once I get you inside. It’s not safe out here, and I value my life too highly to face Logan if something happens to you.” He pulled her toward the house, forcing her to jog to keep up with him.

  He kept looking around as if he expected an attack any second. His nervousness started transferring to her and she suddenly felt very foolish.

  “Riley, I know it was wrong to lie to you, but I needed to get some more clothes and my passport so I thought if I asked you to get them—”

  “You did ask me to get them. I was supposed to bring your things back to Logan’s where you promised you’d be waiting. Why did you come here?”

  They stood on the front porch as she tried to put her key into the lock on the front door. Riley stood with his back to her, his jacket thrown open to expose his gun. Amanda’s hand was shaking so hard now she couldn’t seem to get the key to work. “I’m sorry about lying,” she said. “It’s just that I’d decided to leave and—”

  “You’re leaving without telling Logan?” he asked, glancing back at her. Perhaps noting her expression, he shook his head. “I see. That’s the point, isn’t it? You’re not a prisoner, Amanda. If you’d leveled with him, he would have taken you himself. And he would have made sure you were safe. None of this was necessary.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, catching her ring of keys as they dropped from the lock.

  “Here, let me.” He reached his arms around her, shielding her with his body as he unlocked the door. “When we go in, stay in the foyer. If something happens, press the panic button on your alarm.”

  “If you’re trying to scare me, you’ve succeeded.”

  “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to protect you.” He pulled out his gun and shoved the door back, then entered the foyer with her close behind.

  She entered her security code to turn off the alarm, closed and locked the door behind them.

  He nodded his approval. “Wait here.”

  He glanced into the kitchen, then hurried to the living room and disappeared around the corner. A few seconds later he came back into the foyer. In response to her questioning look, he said, “Clear so far. I’ll check the bedrooms.”

  She nodded and waited.

  And waited.

  Something had to have happened to him or he would have been back by now, wouldn’t he? Part of her wanted to run out the front door, but Riley was here because of her, and she couldn’t deal with any more guilt if he were hurt.

  She chewed her bottom lip. Should she call out his name? If the killer was there, he’d hear her. She began shaking so hard she was afraid the killer would hear her teeth chattering. As quietly as possible, she reached down and picked up a heavy paperweight from the decorative table against the foyer wall.

  Suddenly Riley rushed around the corner from the hallway. As soon as she saw his pale, drawn face, she whirled around and slammed her palm against the alarm’s panic button.

  Logan braked so hard that his car skidded sideways and hopped the curb before settling to a stop on Amanda’s front lawn. Ignoring the cursing coming from Pierce in the passenger seat, Logan threw open the driver’s door and vaulted over the hood.

  He probably looked like a madman, sprinting across the lawn and taking the porch steps two at a time, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was getting to Amanda.

  He’d already spoken to Riley on the phone. Even though Riley had assured him Amanda was okay, that she’d fallen and bumped her head when he’d frightened her by running around the corner into the foyer, he had to see for himself.

  Once inside, he pushed and shoved his way through the uniformed policemen milling around to get into the living room where the activity appeared to be centered. As he paused to survey the room and find her, Pierce came to a halt beside him. His jaw was set and he punched Logan’s arm.

  “Is this how you protect a crime scene in your town? Let every cop and his brother crawl all over it and compromise the evidence?”

  Logan flushed. He knew Pierce was right, but it still wasn’t going to keep him from getting to Amanda. He glanced around, located Riley. “Riley,” he called out. “Clear the room, secure the scene.”

  Riley nodded and Logan surged through the group of officers surrounding the couch, pushing them aside so he could see what they were looking at. Pierce cursed behind him and Logan knew the man thought he was a backwoods fool. Maybe he was, because nothing else mattered but seeing Amanda, seeing how badly she was hurt.

  Suddenly Pierce was beside him, helping him shove everyone out of the way and shouting at them to quit mucking up the crime scene and to get out of the house.

  If Logan wasn’t so frantic to get to Amanda, he would have laughed at the startled looks on his men’s faces and at how quickly they snapped to attention, obeying the FBI agent as if they’d taken orders from him all their lives.

  The room quickly emptied and at last Logan saw Amanda. She was lying on the couch, holding an ice pack to the side of her head while an EMT cleaned blood off her face.

  She was all right. That’s what he kept telling himself as he took a shaky breath. He tried to calm his raging emotions before he did something stupid, like pick her up and haul her out of here, lock her up and keep her prisoner until the killer was found.

  “You’re all right?” Logan asked after the EMT left. He held Amanda’s hand as he sat beside her on the couch.

  She looked into his eyes, comforted by the concern she saw. “I’m fine. It’s stupid, really. I panicked and slipped. Just a bump, nothing serious.”

  “What happened?” Logan asked, as Pierce slid the coffee table back a couple of feet and perched on its edge to face her. Riley
took one of the recliners next to the couch.

  Glancing uncomfortably at Pierce, Amanda turned back to Logan and spoke to him in a hushed voice. “After this morning, I decided there was no reason for me to stay at your house anymore. I wanted to get as far away as I could, but first I needed to get more clothes and my passport. So I asked Riley—”

  “Tricked Riley,” Logan corrected.

  She frowned. “Yes. I tricked him. I told him I needed some more clothes, and asked if he could pick them up for me and bring them to your house. I made it sound like no big deal, nothing to bother you about, and he was nice enough to come over here.”

  “And instead of you staying at my house,” Logan interrupted, “like you promised him, you came here. My God, Amanda. What if you had gotten here earlier, when the killer was still inside? You could have been killed. And Riley.”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. “I’m sorry, Riley. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.”

  “And you didn’t,” Pierce assured her. He leaned toward Logan. “Can I speak to you for a minute?”

  Logan clenched his jaw. “This isn’t over,” he whispered. He stood and left the room with Pierce.

  Amanda shivered at the cold anger that had radiated in those three little words. She looked up and met Riley’s concerned brown eyes. “I really am sorry, Riley. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

  He smiled and sat beside her on the couch. “Look at the bright side.”

  “Bright side? What’s that?”

  “If you hadn’t conned me into coming out here to begin with, we wouldn’t have found the presents the killer left in your bedroom. And honestly, the way the case is going, we need all the evidence and clues we can get, so I’m glad you got me over here.”

  “I’m not sure I agree with all of that, but thanks for trying to make me feel better. Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s just that, well, when we entered the house and you disappeared down the hall, you were gone so long. And then, when you ran around the corner . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “The look on your face. You looked . . . scary.”

  He laughed awkwardly. “Don’t you mean I looked scared? When I saw what the killer left in your bedroom, I have to admit it scared the shit out of me.” His face turned red. “Sorry. Anyway, I’ve never seen anything like that and I sort of zoned out. I’m sorry I scared you when I ran around the corner. I was expecting to find the killer.”

  “I’m the one who’s sorry. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t be in the middle of this mess.”

  He smiled again, a boyish, youthful smile that made her wonder how she could have ever been afraid of him, even for a second.

  “I’ll forgive you, on one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  “Next time, call Logan instead.”

  Logan still smarted from the argument outside with Pierce. Pierce had read him the riot act on preserving crime scenes, and tried to get him to leave the scene to those less emotionally involved. Although he knew Pierce was right, he wasn’t leaving without Amanda. But he did give his men orders and organized the scene. If it was anyone else talking to him the way Pierce had, he’d have knocked them on their ass. But he respected Pierce and he knew he was right.

  When Logan walked back into Amanda’s living room with Pierce at his side, he nodded at Riley standing by the fireplace and joined Amanda on the couch. Pierce sat on the recliner to her right, having as much trouble as Logan had over a week ago when he’d had to squeeze his body into the slim chair.

  “Amanda,” Pierce said. “Did detective Riley tell you what he found in your bedroom?”

  “He said there were some pictures of me.”

  “There were a lot of pictures of you, hundreds, taped all over the walls.”

  “How many people know about the game the killer played with you and Dana?” Logan asked.

  “The police, of course. Dana’s father, my therapist—”

  Logan exchanged a startled glance with Pierce. “Dana’s father knows?”

  “He visited me in the hospital. He wanted to know everything that had happened to Dana. I didn’t want to tell him, but he was emphatic, said it was his right as her father to know. You seem surprised. Should I not have told him?”

  “No, no, you did the right thing,” Logan said. “That’s a detail we’ve held back from the press, and I didn’t know Branson knew. Go on. You said your therapist knows. Anyone else?”

  She frowned in concentration. “No one else I can think of. Why?”

  “Because there was a long-stemmed rose on your bed. It only had one thorn. And there was a note that said, ‘He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not.’ ”

  Pierce took his Blackberry from the breast pocket of his suit jacket, opened it, and punched some buttons. “What’s the name of your therapist?”

  “My therapist didn’t leave that note,” she insisted.

  “His name?” Pierce repeated.

  “Her name is Joanne Bateman. She practices out of Pensacola now.”

  Pierce glanced at her, shrugged, and typed in the name. “We’ll still check her out. Maybe there’s a tie-in.”

  “Riley,” Logan said. “Have they found anything else? Fingerprints? Witnesses?”

  “Plenty of prints on the pictures. And a neighbor next-door was getting her mail early this morning and said she saw a man dressed in blue coveralls on Amanda’s property. She thought he was the cable guy.”

  “I don’t suppose you snuck out for an appointment with the cable company?” Logan asked her.

  Her cheeks flushed red. “No.”

  “I’m on it,” Pierce said. “Which neighbor, Riley?”

  Riley told him and Pierce left the room.

  “Riley?” Logan asked, his eyes riveted on Amanda. “Now would be a good time for you to check on the men outside, make sure they’ve got the scene taped off correctly.”

  “Um, yeah, sure.” Riley left the room.

  When they were alone, Logan tried to keep in mind how Amanda had responded the last time he’d pushed her. He didn’t want to hurt her, or make her panic again, but the urge to yell at her was so strong it was making his throat ache. She’d put her life in danger by coming back here, knowing there was a killer out there, knowing the killer probably knew where she lived.

  But looking into her eyes, seeing the fear mirrored back at him, his anger quickly faded. He held out his hand, palm up, and sighed in relief when she put her hand in his. “Why did you leave my house?”

  She stared at their hands joined together, resting on the top of her thighs. “I made a complete fool of myself . . . with you. I was embarrassed and didn’t want to face you again. Besides, there wasn’t any point in staying. I told you everything I know about the case. The computer program I wrote did all it could do. There was no point in me staying any longer.”

  He gently lifted her chin until she met his gaze. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  She swallowed hard and her eyes widened. “You don’t?”

  “Not even a little.” Not wanting to make her panic again, or bring back any bad memories, he pulled back his hand, even though it practically killed him. What he really wanted to do was pull her close and protect her and chase the fear from her eyes. Instead, he tried to reassure her. “Staying at my house is safer. Only a handful of people know you’re there, and you always have a police officer with you—either me or Karen.”

  Her eyes widened, and for a moment he thought she looked disappointed. But then she smiled. “Well, there’s a lot to be said for ‘round-the-clock cops watching over you.”

  “Right,” he agreed. “I know you want to leave, get away from all of this, but I’m asking you to stay with me for a couple more days. If I don’t crack this case by then, I’ll take you to the airport myself.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Why should I stay?”

  Because I can’t imagine coming home and you not being there. Because I�
��m falling in love with you. He cleared his throat. “Because I may have more questions, and it’s easier to ask them in person. Plus, until this killer is caught, I’d feel much better knowing you were at my home, guarded by Karen or me, rather than trust someone else to protect you.”

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. “All right. I’ll stay, for a few more days. Then we can reevaluate.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered. Unable to resist the urge to touch her again, he pressed a tender kiss against her forehead and quickly pulled back before he made her panic.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Nice. You’d think someone would pick up around here once in a while,” Riley said. His lips curled in disgust as he kicked a discarded fast-food bag out of the way, and stepped over the ant trail that led to some indefinable sticky mass on the stained concrete.

  The stakeout had finally yielded results. Pierce’s men had called in to report that Branson showed up at his apartment less than an hour ago. Pierce, Riley, and Logan were hoping to surprise him.

  Following behind Riley, Pierce stopped to rake his shoe on the edge of the concrete. Logan didn’t ask what Pierce had stepped in but he could guess any number of unpleasant things.

  Riley knocked on the rusted front door that might once have been white but now was a mixture of blistering, yellowing paint and grimy black handprints. He made a show of wiping his hand on his pants as if to wipe off any germs he’d picked up from the door. Logan gave him a warning look.

  The door creaked open and a disheveled Frank Branson greeted them with bloodshot eyes and several days’ growth of stubble on his face. The khaki shorts and white cotton t-shirt he wore were horribly wrinkled but appeared to be clean.

  Logan braced himself against the urge to slam his fist into the other man’s face. Instead, he extended his hand. “Mr. Branson, I’m Chief Richards.”

  Branson eyed his hand as if it were a serpent. “What do you want?”

  Logan was more than a little relieved that he hadn’t had to shake Branson’s hand. “We’d like to ask you a few questions, and thought it would be easier to meet you here than to haul you back to the station. May we come in?”