The Seven-Day Target Page 11

  A coldness crept up his spine as his perspective shifted. Had he considered why Libby would want to stay near Arbor Falls after he’d accepted a position with the FBI? He couldn’t remember, and that wasn’t a good sign. He couldn’t recall discussing how they could compromise for the few years he would be stationed in Pittsburgh so they could both pursue their careers. He didn’t remember that ever being an option in his mind. No, he was sure that he’d expected Libby to move with him, no questions asked. As if he owned her. The chill settled in his gut. How caveman of him.

  How unfeeling.

  He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his seat. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?” Libby gave a small grunt. It was assent enough. “What about your dad? Who did he anger enough to do something like this?”

  She looked heavenward as she considered, and Nick imagined they were both thinking along the same lines. Her father had believed that compassion should be checked at the courtroom door. He’d probably angered more people than either of them could count. “I assume this all has something to do with a ruling he made during his tenure as a judge, since that court reporter was killed,” she said.

  “A fair assumption.”

  Their dinners arrived. Nick couldn’t resist his burger—he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. As they ate, Libby gave him a rundown of some of her dad’s more significant cases, and he wrote down some possible names. “But I never had the sense that Dad was in any kind of trouble or under a serious threat.”

  Nick thought. “If he was under a threat, do you think that’s something he would have told you?”

  She paused, her fork hovering slightly over her plate. She wasn’t kidding about her salad having more calories than his burger—it was topped with layers of cheese, bacon and avocado and smothered with thousand island dressing. Good, because she was looking too thin. “I think he would have told me if someone was threatening him. Dad and I were close like that.”

  Nick wouldn’t argue the point, but in his mind there was no way that the judge would have upset his daughter by confiding in her. Libby had confided in her father, not vice versa. “Let’s review. He angered a lot of people, but you never had the sense that he angered anyone enough that they would want to seek revenge in some way.”

  “Why would anyone want to hurt my dad? Most of the people he angered are in prison or on parole. And what would revenge matter now, anyway? He’ll never see any of this.” She pushed her plate to the side and sat back in the booth. “I don’t know. I feel like we’re missing something obvious.”

  They finished their drinks and Nick paid the bill. Walking around the block a few times would have helped to digest dinner, but that was too risky. As it was, he checked the rental car thoroughly before they climbed in, and he watched for following vehicles as they drove back to the inn.

  Libby’s bed was turned down when they entered the room, and two chocolate mints had been left on the pillow. She held one out to him. “Dessert.” She smiled.

  She was so cute when she smiled. Their fingers met when he took the candy from her. He turned it over in his hand before tossing it on the nightstand. He wanted more than chocolate.

  He closed the shades and watched her as she walked around the room, pulling her carefully folded nightgown from the large mahogany dresser and digging in her bag for her hairbrush. Her actions were fluid and easy, not at all resembling the self-conscious movements from the day before. She was actually relaxing around him.

  Relaxation was not foremost on his mind. As he watched Libby prepare for the evening, he was drawn to the shape of her thighs, suggested but hidden by her skirt. She had a silver charm bracelet around one slender wrist, and he had an urge to nibble at the silver, teasing the delicate flesh of her wrist with his lips. He wanted to touch her again, to feel her hot bare skin writhing beneath him. Tomorrow was uncertain. He needed her tonight. He stepped forward.

  * * *

  Her toothbrush had fallen into the main compartment of her suitcase—no surprise, since she’d packed in a hurry. Libby had just managed to find it when she looked up and caught his gaze. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes, as if he’d searched her for the one thing she couldn’t bear right now.

  “What?” she asked, trying to sound natural and hoping he couldn’t see her fingers trembling.

  Nick took another step. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it, Libby.”

  “Feel what?”

  “The heat that always burned between us. The attraction we’ve always felt for each other, even when we were pretending we didn’t.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I thought I made it clear how I felt for you.”

  “You can’t hide it.” He straightened. “I see it written across your body.”

  He advanced, moving with deliberate footsteps and a gaze that made her heart thunder. She instinctively retreated but stopped as her back pressed against the wall. This elicited a rakish smile and a chuckle from the back of his throat.

  “We’re through,” she stammered as he came still closer, bracing himself against the wall with one hand. Blocking her escape.

  “Through?” His warm breath fell on her cheeks as he leaned down. “You really think so?”

  Now his lips grazed her ear, sending a shiver straight through her center. She felt his light breath on her skin, felt the animal heat of his strong arm as it fenced her in. Nick curved his body to bring his free hand to rest lightly on her hip.

  “Yes. It’s over,” she said. “I feel nothing for you.” Her voice came out no more than a whisper, thick with desire.

  Another chuckle, this one from deep within his chest. She stood helplessly still as he began to tease her shirt upward, exposing the sensitive skin on her belly. “So, I suppose this doesn’t do anything for you, then?” He trailed his fingertips along her waistline, eliciting a soft moan.

  “No,” she gasped. “I don’t feel a thing.” Her skin was on fire, and an ache began at the juncture of her thighs.

  He frowned playfully. “That’s surprising. I could have sworn I felt a reaction.”

  “Nothing.”

  As she spoke, he brought his hand fully under her shirt and round her bare back, pressing her closer to him. She felt the length of his hardness against her heat and sighed, allowing her head to fall back against the wall. His hot mouth was still beside her ear, but he brought his lips to the base of her throat as she arched her body toward him.

  “Nothing at all?” He spoke the words against her throat, and she trembled as a current of fire and ice coursed through her.

  She moaned. “Nothing.”

  “This is troubling.” He again spoke to her neck, and Libby felt every hair on her body rise in response. Before she could react, he’d pushed one knee between hers and eased her legs open. She willingly complied. He kept one hand on her back but brought his other hand lower, blazing a trail down her waist to her thigh. With deft fingers he slid her skirt up, exposing her black silk panties. She moaned again as he tucked a finger beneath the leg of her panties and traced the edge of the fabric with a butterfly touch. “How about that?” he whispered against her ear. His voice was thick. “You must feel that.”

  She was too breathless to answer, but he didn’t wait for a response as he guided her panties down her thighs. She cried out as he brought his hand back up to touch her, expertly stroking her until her knees began to shake.

  “Oh...”

  She braced herself against the wall of his chest, fumbling uselessly at his sweater. She managed to lift it a few inches, enough to slide her fingers underneath to feel the tight muscles on his stomach tense with need for her. He sank his forehead against the wall as she touched him and a groan escaped his lips. A thrill at her own power shot through her.

  Nick collected himself and continued to touch her, his eyes trained to hers. “Did you feel that? Was that a yes?”

  He sounded so far away. She pressed herself against his hand, moving her hips rhythmically as
a tension began to gather. Reaching up to grasp Nick’s hair with both hands, she ran her fingers through the thick waves and brought his mouth to hers. He flicked his tongue against hers, matching the rhythm of his fingers. They were locked in that embrace until she pulled away and rested her head on his shoulder, clasping the strong arms that held her captive. Libby gasped as the tension inside of her shattered and she finally found her release, shuddering against his hand.

  When the moment had passed, she fell back against the wall. Nick raised her panties and smoothed her skirt down then leaned forward and kissed her soundly on the mouth. He pulled away and allowed his breath to fall against her cheek. “How can you say you don’t feel anything for me?” he demanded.

  Libby swallowed. She tucked her blouse into her skirt and stepped aside. “You bastard,” she choked as she smoothed her hair. Then she turned and stormed away to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

  * * *

  She sat on the tiled floor for what seemed like hours, waiting for her knees to stop shaking and her breath to steady. She’d really done that. He’d brazenly approached her, lifted her skirt and touched her, and she’d enjoyed it. Every second. That wasn’t even worth lying about. But now she had to face him and his smugness at having brought her into submission, and that’s what made her cheeks burn.

  She drew a hot bubble bath and slid into the tub, watching her legs go red from the heat. The spice of his cologne hovered on her throat, and when she touched her arm, she imagined the skin on his stomach beneath her fingertips, hard and trembling. She closed her eyes to imagine his skillful touch again. Then she sat up.

  This was a problem, this feeling as if she hadn’t had enough of him. It’s not like she’d asked for him to touch her like that. They had a history and maybe there was some lingering attraction, but he’d taken advantage. She reached for the washcloth and the soap and lathered her skin, scrubbing the traces of Nick’s scent. Then she leaned back against the hot water, the tightness in her muscles melting inch by inch until she was weightless.

  Perspective comes in hot baths. She’d made a mistake with Nick. They could not be involved again, they simply couldn’t, and when he gloated, she’d have the satisfaction of telling him that he was not to try anything like that again. Better still, there would be no more touching. No hand on her back or fingers brushing her hair. How easily they’d fallen into those comfortable habits despite her best intentions. She could forgive herself for the lapse in judgment, since after all, she was afraid for her life and not thinking straight. He should have known better.

  Libby skimmed her hand over the surface of the water that appeared as the bubbles faded. That puzzle still weighed on her. Seven tons hatred. They must have considered most options, hundreds of combinations. She thought of the woman in the photograph and the bruises around her throat. The poor girl. A steel ball of fury tumbled in Libby’s stomach. They would get the bastard who’d strangled her.

  Her heart stopped. Strangled. The largest case of her father’s career as a prosecutor had come when she was still in diapers, when he’d prosecuted the Arbor Falls Strangler...what had that case been called?

  She pulled the plug on the bathtub drain and stood as the water emptied in a whoosh. She wiped the remains of water and bubbles with a thick terry-cloth towel and then climbed into the complimentary white bathrobe, her heart pounding. The Arbor Falls Strangler. That case would be about thirty years old by now. If she remembered correctly, he’d terrorized the town for nearly ten years before he was caught.

  By the time she emerged from the sauna of the bathroom, Libby felt wild with excitement. Nick was sitting on the bed, and his eyes were drawn with concern as he saw her. “Libby, I’m sorry—”

  “The letters. Where are they?”

  He blinked and she repeated herself. He then pointed dumbly to the table where the wooden letters lay in a pile.

  “It’s a case name.” She was breathless as she arranged the letters. “Look! That’s why we have the v, for versus.”

  Nick was standing at her side now, watching as she worked. “I’ll be...”

  “And since it’s a criminal case, it’s State v. something.” She stared at the remaining letters and then triumphantly reworked them. “There. That’s it.”

  A smile crept over his face. “State v. Henderson. It works.”

  “State v. Henderson. My dad’s biggest case when he was a prosecutor. The case that he said made him judge.” She folded her arms across her chest. “The Arbor Falls Strangler.”

  Nick smiled proudly and reached out to hug her but stopped himself and instead pressed his hands to his waist. “You did it, Lib. The Arbor Falls Strangler, huh?”

  “So you know what we have to do now, right?”

  He nodded. “Research. Lots and lots of research.”

  Chapter 8

  They stayed up into the night piecing together information on the Arbor Falls Strangler before finally falling asleep at three in the morning. They were up again early. Libby placed a few calls to the D.A.’s Office and managed to locate the Henderson case files.

  “They were moved to a storage facility in Stillborough. It’s a little under an hour from here.”

  Nick called Dom while Libby got ready, and then they headed toward Stillborough.

  “Will Henderson is local mythology,” Libby said, thinking about the macabre websites they’d found that were devoted to the crimes. “He stalked women and then killed them. And if this particular online account I read is correct, he left signs for his victims, too. It was an elaborate cat-and-mouse game.” She turned to Nick as he drove. “Will Henderson died in prison soon after he was sentenced. He hanged himself. So what does it mean that someone is copying him now?”

  “Could be a family member of Henderson’s, or it could be someone who’s as interested in the folklore as others apparently are.” He straightened. “Between you and me, this feels more personal than a copycat killing.”

  “I agree.” She gripped her cardboard coffee cup. She was drinking a lot more coffee than she should be, and she didn’t care. Her arms pimpled as a chill went through her. “No one followed us, right? You talked to Dom, and there were no more signs?”

  “None. It was quiet last night. Nothing at our houses. Everyone in the police department is on high alert now that McAdams is one of the victims.”

  She nodded silently but couldn’t brush down her anxiety. Today was day four, which meant another sign was scheduled. The killer had already gone to horrifically impressive lengths to deliver his promised signs.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Far be it from me to gossip, but I found out that my buddy Dom had dinner with your little sister last night.”

  Libby’s eyes widened and she felt her shoulders loosen by a millimeter as Nick changed the subject. “Really? She left the hotel?”

  “No. Apparently he brought her Chinese takeout, and she didn’t trust him so she made him eat it in the hotel lobby with her.” Nick broke into a broad grin. “She thought he might be the killer.”

  There was that prickle again on her arms. “Well...can we be sure he isn’t?”

  He looked at her. “Libby, Dom didn’t—”

  “We don’t know anything for sure. He’s the only one who knew we were staying at your parents’ house, besides McAdams. We can’t trust anyone.” She pulled absentmindedly at the seam of her jeans. “Maybe Cassie and Sam should go to a different hotel, just to be safe.”

  “He was my partner for years. He’s a police sergeant.” Nick’s jaw was tight. “It’s not him.”

  “Why is he showing up at her hotel, checking up on her? That’s strange behavior, isn’t it?”

  He laughed dryly. “Maybe he likes her. Sometimes people do strange things when they like each other.”

  “I don’t want him near my sister.”

  She pulled out her cell phone, ignoring his protests. “Cassie,” she said when her sister answered. “Dom showed up at your room last night?”

>   Cassie snorted on the other end of the phone. “Nice to hear from you, Libby. Good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”

  She rolled her eyes at the phone. “Answer my question.”

  “Yes, Dom came over last night. He brought me dinner.”

  “Why is he bringing you dinner?” Libby shot Nick a look as he groaned.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask him that.”

  “It’s strange, and I think you and Sam should leave the hotel and go somewhere else. Don’t tell Dom.”

  “Go somewhere else!” Her shrill protest reminded Libby of their teenage years and of the many life-or-death arguments they’d had over who had used the other’s makeup. “He’s the police sergeant, Libby. He’s not a serial killer.”

  “Don’t you think it’s weird that he would drive so far out of his way to bring you dinner?”

  Cassie was quiet on the other end. Then she said softly, “Why do you think it’s so strange that a man would do something nice for me?”

  Libby’s stomach tightened. “You know that’s not what I’m saying—”

  “Maybe he likes me. Is that so wrong? So weird? Maybe he worried that it would be hard for me to get out of the room because of Sam. That doesn’t make him a serial killer.”

  Libby closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “This is not the time to worry about your love life. Go somewhere else and don’t tell anyone.”

  “You sound like Dad,” Cassie spat.

  “Someone has to be the adult here,” she snapped. They exchanged tense goodbyes and disconnected the call.

  Libby sat back in her seat and exhaled loudly. “She is just impossible!”

  Nick glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Did that make you feel better?”

  She turned herself away from him and folded her arms. Nick continued the drive in silence, his jaw set firmly. Let him be angry. She didn’t care if she upset him or Dom; she had to do what was best for her sister. Cassie was her family, and Nick was not.