The Beast Within: Mended Souls #2 Page 7

  He grasped Julie’s forearm, halting her momentum. She turned and looked up at him and just like that the awareness returned.

  Connor cleared his throat. “Listen, about before…”

  An adorable wrinkle formed between her brows. One he wished he could soothe away with his lips.

  “It was a mistake.”

  His turn to frown now.

  “Let’s agree it was an aberration, shall we?” She shrugged free of his grip, her focus somewhere in the region of his neck. “Your friend needs you, you better go.”

  He hesitated, loathe to leave without talking it out. But really, what could he say? She lit him up like a neon sign, but she didn’t strike him as a hook-up-for-a night kind of girl. And he definitely wasn’t a good relationship bet, so they were at an impasse.

  He nodded. She was right. “Madeline will see that you get back to your car—safely.” He couldn’t help it, he reached out and ran gentle fingers down the silver streak in her hair. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  Madeline stepped into view and he dropped his hand. “Maddie, can you see that Mrs. Crenshaw gets a ride back to wherever her car was left?”

  Maddie’s glance roved between them, an indecipherable look on her pretty face. “Sure. Follow me, Mrs. Crenshaw.”

  Connor winced, even though he’d just used her married name himself. It sounded… illicit from another’s lips. “Have whoever it is follow her home and set up a surveillance while you’re at it.”

  Julie gasped. “Are you kidding me? I can’t have a police escort. You’re going to get me fired.”

  Frustrated and anxious to leave, Connor snapped the command, “That’s an order, Madeline. This is an important witness to the beach murder investigation. I want her watched.”

  He stomped past, ignoring the knowing smirk from his officer, and the outraged anger on the face of the woman he was coming to care about.

  Matt woke with a splitting headache and aching ribs. He needed to quit drinking, that shit was going to kill him one day. He opened his eyes to check the time and immediately slammed them shut on a groan.

  Fuck, who turned on the lights?

  “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, and I ain’t kissing that puss.” Connor’s voice reverberated in his eardrums like his father’s used to after a night out carousing.

  “Turn down the dial, man. Can’t you see I’m wounded?”

  “Probably looking for a sympathetic nurse.”

  Nurse? Matt forced his eyes open again, this time making sure he kept to a squint. What the hell? He was lying in a hospital bed, not his California king at home.

  “What happened?” he croaked, searching until he found Connor seated on a lumpy looking armchair near the room’s only window. Thank God the curtains were pulled.

  Connor stood and came to his side. “I was hoping you could tell me,” he said, empathy turning his eyes gunmetal gray.

  Shit, was he that bad off?

  He tried to sit, but the pain knocked him flat on his back again. His stomach heaved and his vision turned spotty. Son-of-a-bitch, that hurt.

  Connor brought a straw in a plastic cup filled with ice chips to his lips. Grateful he took a long, slow drink, the coolness flushing away the ache.

  “Thanks, man.” His head fell against the stiff pillows. “How long have I been out?”

  “Not sure. They brought you in a couple hours ago. Doc says you have a concussion and a couple of cracked ribs. You got lucky.”

  Luck.

  He’d quit counting on that nebulous blessing way back in seventh grade when his pops found out he’d skipped class and taught him the hard way not to do it again.

  “What happened, Matt?”

  It was coming to him in a series of wavy images, like a reflection on water. “I went to the tattoo place I told you about.” He remembered the sketches. “I was thinking of getting some angel wings.”

  Connor gave him a confused look. “Ookay, but what does that have to do with the investigation? Focus, buddy.”

  Matt grinned, even though it hurt his head. Some things never changed. His partner of three years was a great guy, but he had a serious lack of humor. Matt had made it his personal quest to loosen the dude up.

  “I was waiting for my source to finish up a job and this guy walks in. He sees me and makes a run for it.” He lifted a bandaged hand to the goose egg on his head. “He blindsided me.”

  “Did you get a look at him?” Connor pulled a black notebook and pen out of his pocket, ever the cop.

  “Just vague things. Heavyset, maybe mid-thirty’s. He had a Red Sox hat, red with black brim.” He tried to visualize his attacker, but everything remained grainy, distorted. “That’s it, other than he packed a hell of a wallop.”

  Frustrated, he turned his head and stared at the curtained window. There was silence, then Connor patted his blanket-covered leg. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”

  Matt’s throat closed. He’d screwed up. They both knew it. Maybe he’d even let a killer get away. And that was something he had to live with.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mike sank into the chair his wife had recently vacated in the conference room at the police station. He stared at the door and pictured the cop holding Jules pressed up against its smooth surface while he locked lips with her like she was in need of CPR.

  And she’d let him.

  His head fell back and he closed his eyes, desperately trying to erase the preceding minutes from existence. Moisture leaked down his cheeks and into his ears. The heart that he’d thought was frozen in time, cracked. Great fissures of agony and sorrow spilled into his chest, filling his soul with darkness and rage.

  Why was this happening to him? Why was he being tortured this way? Wasn’t it enough that he’d lost his family and then was given the task of teaching his enemy repentance? How was he supposed to stand by and watch the love of his life move on with another man? Maybe even raise his children?

  No.

  Mike erupted from his seat and the chair flew against the wall before bouncing to the floor. He strode for the door, determined to bust the cop’s face and then grab his wife, throw her over his shoulder, and head for home where she belonged. Then the memory of what he was drew him up short. A freaking angel.

  It didn’t matter how much he ached to stake his claim, it wouldn’t do any good, would it? Unless they were going to reenact that sappy chick flick Jules used to pick every other month for their date night, it wasn’t going to work. He was a ghost—and she wasn’t.

  His stomach sank. That meant he was going to have to learn to accept other men entering her life, and maybe even staying.

  She deserved happiness.

  He blinked hard, pushing back the tears. His kids did too. Someone to take them to baseball practices. To teach them to drive, and how to treat their girlfriends right. To bounce their babies on his knee. So many experiences Mike had looked forward to sharing with Julie, but now he would be forced to watch from the sidelines. He didn’t know how he was going to do it.

  The door opened and a woman rushed into the room. She looked around, spotted the overturned chair, and shook her head. “How the heck…?”

  The aroma of corned beef and mustard followed her across the room, and Mike inhaled. He’d loved Rueben sandwiches.

  She reset the chair on its feet, grazed her fingers down the marred wall, and turned to leave, her brow creased in confusion. Something made her stop. A nervous hand went to her sidearm and she stared right at him, though Mike knew she couldn’t be seeing anything.

  “Who’s there?” she asked, her voice only slightly tremulous. She had guts, this one.

  He stood absolutely still, barely breathing.

  “This isn’t funny,” she said.

  No, it certainly wasn’t.

  He turned to leave and froze at the distinct sound of a safety being flipped.

  “I don’t know who you are, mister, or what kind of game you’re playing, but you don’t belong in here.”
>
  Holy shit, she could see him.

  He slowly raised his hands, careful not to make any sudden moves—though really, what could she do, kill him?—and twisted at the waist to see if she was actually speaking to him. Yep, she was. She had her revolver held firm in both hands and pointed right at his body mass.

  Did he say holy shit?

  “Relax, officer, I’m not here to hurt anyone.” Well, maybe the cop who’d kissed his wife. He still wasn’t quite ready to accept that yet. “I can explain.” Sort of.

  “How did you get into the building? I never cleared you, and what’s with the hocus pocus crap?”

  He started to let his hands drop and she waved them up again. “Not so fast, buddy. You have some explaining to do first. It’s against the law to break into a police station. I could arrest you.”

  He’d like to see her try.

  “I’m here for a… meeting,” he said. Close enough to the truth. He had been hoping to see Julie. Just not in another man’s arms.

  Whatever it was she saw in his face must have reassured her because she lowered her weapon and returned it to its holster, though he noticed she left it unstrapped.

  “Why don’t you tell me who you’re looking for and I’ll see if they’re around,” she said, and ushered him toward the open doorway.

  He hesitated. “Do you know who Julie Crenshaw was here to see?” he asked.

  She frowned. “How do you know Ms. Crenshaw?”

  Mike’s brows lowered over the Ms. acronym. “She’s a… relation.”

  “Well, maybe you should ask her then,” came the tart reply. Then she relented and gave him his answer. “She was here to see Detective O’Rourke. I’m afraid I can’t say more than that.” She must have seen his concern because she hurried to add, “Don’t worry, she’s not in trouble or anything.”

  He wished he could take her at her word, but something evil was lurking in his wife’s shadow and Mike wasn’t sure he could stop it.

  The woman waited for him to leave the room before closing the door and joining him for the walk down the hall. He needed to get rid of her so he could vanish, but was loathe to do anything to scare her away. It had been too long since he’d had meaningful conversation with anyone other than Lucas. It felt… good.

  He glanced sideways and admired the mink-like darkness of her hair in its prim and proper knot high on the back of her head. It only served to highlight the slim length of her neck and the shell of her ear. She was an attractive young woman. Why wasn’t the detective making googly eyes at her instead of Jules?

  “What’s your name?” he abruptly asked, surprised that it mattered to him.

  “Corporal Tate,” she answered, sliding him a look from under thick brown lashes.

  He smiled, aware she thought he was flirting with her—which he absolutely wasn’t. “Your first name.”

  “It’s Madison, Maddie to my friends.” Which we could be, her tone seemed to say.

  The little interchange helped to ease the choked emotion he’d had after seeing Jules. He was grateful to Corporal Tate, Maddie to her friends, for that, and for making him feel like an attractive man again, instead of a nonentity.

  “I’m Michael,” he told her. “Michael… Morning Star.”

  She gave him a doubtful look. “Well, Michael Morning Star, or whoever you are, next time try entering the way everyone else does and we won’t have any misunderstandings.”

  If only that were possible.

  “I’ll try to remember that,” Mike murmured, concern taking over now they were nearing the front of the department. He wasn’t visible to anyone else, or at least he hadn’t been. How was he going to explain that to the woman by his side? Sorry, ma’am, I forgot to mention you’ve been chit-chatting with a freaking ghost.

  He grasped her arm, anxious to delay the moment when his reality kicked in and he’d have to return to his lonely non-existence.

  She let out a soft gasp, and stared up at him with wide whiskey-brown eyes. Mike met her gaze and was sucked into their mysterious depths.

  His mind was filled with a vision of her in a stand of trees, her face white and frightened froze. He could sense her fear, feel the threat, but there was nothing he could do to stop what happened next. The figure of a man appeared, dressed head to toe in black, impossible to recognize. He crept toward Julie from behind, a gun pointed at her back.

  Run, Julie. For God’s sake, run.

  The words were a silent scream reverberating up Mike’s spine and exploding from his throat.

  She turned, but it was too late. The man started toward her, his intent to kill stamped on his frame. The flash and resulting smack as she ducked, and threw herself sideways into a thick clump of shrubs and the bullet slammed into Maddie stopped his heart. The woods erupted into shouts as police swarmed the area.

  Mike flew to the last place he’d seen Maddie, frantic to find her. But his relief at spotting her was short-lived. She lay prone, staring up into the star-filled sky, her gaze dazed, filled with shock and the knowledge of her impending death. He started to land, to do… something, but then the detective was there, leaning over her, begging her to stay with him.

  And Maddie? Her eyes searched the sky so frantically he could almost hear her heart pounding, until she found him, hovering near the tree line. She relaxed, a tranquil expression placed a slight smile on her lips, and then she slid into a blessed sleep.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her voice jarred him back to the present. He stared down at the pretty young police officer and had to bite back the warnings hovering on the tip of his tongue. She’d never believe him anyway. He vowed right then to watch over her and ensure she was given the chance to enjoy a long, happy life, as he had not.

  He smiled into her upturned face. “I just wanted to thank you for your kindness. Have a good life, Maddie Tate.”

  She tipped her head and looked at him like he had a screw loose. She was probably right.

  Just then another officer called from down the hall. “Hey, Madison. Do you know what happened to the McGregor folder?”

  She sighed and opened the door marked archives. “I told you I was going to file it, Stan.” She looked at Mike and shrugged. “Wait here, okay?”

  She stepped into the room and flicked on the lights. Before she could return, he took the opportunity and vanished.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Julie tried to focus on her interview with the mayor of Sooke and ignore the young officer standing near the whale watching tour sign. He probably thought he was being unobtrusive, but no one was fooled.

  “Can you share what you are doing in the face of the perceived threat to your community?” Julie held the microphone steady and made sure Rudy had a clear shot of the mayor’s reaction.

  The mayor shared a reassuring smile with the camera, and a don’t-ask-me-questions-I-can’t-answer, glare with her. “Every measure is being taken to ensure the safety of our people, and of course, to track down the person behind this atrocity.”

  Julie waited for a stream of traffic to pass, grateful they weren’t taping live. A fresh breeze off the ocean kept the heat from the spring sunshine at bay. It was one of those days where it seemed impossible that anything bad could happen—unfortunately for Cindy Blackthorn, the victim, it had. And other than reporting her name and that she had been a sex trade worker from Vancouver, the police were being very close-mouthed about the case. It bothered Julie that the woman was First Nations, and that there had been other cases of severed feet found along the coastline in the past few years. Some estimates placed the number of missing indigenous women and girls at over four thousand in Canada. Just how many were the work of serial killers?

  A single bald eagle soared high above them in the cloudless blue sky.

  Now that the camera was turned off the mayor asked the question obviously praying on everyone’s mind. “Do you think the ABC Killer did this?”

  Crap. She was going to choke whoever had come up with that awful
tagline.

  “It’s too early to say, ma’am.” Julie swiped the flat of her hand across her throat, signaling for Rudy to cut the film. She gazed sympathetically at the distraught woman. “He’s probably long gone. He knows the police are looking for him, so he’s not going to stick around. I wouldn’t worry too much. However, you might want to do a press announcement warning people to take proper safety measures. Travel in pairs. Be aware of your surroundings. Lock your doors and windows.”

  The mayor nodded and rubbed shaky fingers over the creases lining her forehead. “I’ll do that right away. This has always been a quiet town. I have two kids. I can’t imagine how that poor woman’s family feels right now. It’s so frightening.”

  Yes, it was.

  Detective O’Rourke—she had to think of him that way instead of the man who had kissed her and turned her world inside out—hadn’t shared many details, but Ron had good sources in the coroner’s office and they swore the victim had been raped and brutalized until death.

  She touched the mayor’s hand. “The RCMP are following up on some good leads. They’ll get whoever did this. Don’t worry, okay?”

  The older woman nodded and squared her shoulders. “Are we done here? I’d like to go home and be with my family.”

  Julie knew that feeling. “Of course. Thank you for your time.”

  She waited for the mayor to get into her car and drive away before following Rudy to the news van.

  Sam gazed sympathetically from inside the open back doors where they had already begun the job of splicing together the segments for tonight’s broadcast. “Tough one.”

  Julie nodded. “I don’t envy her position. She has to show a brave face for the town, when inside the fear of how close that creep was must be tearing her apart.”

  Sam glanced at Rudy rolling cable. The two of them had been married long enough that they shared each other’s thoughts. It made Julie both envious and sad. She and Mike had been married eight years before the accident, but it had been so full of working and raising kids that they hadn’t had a lot of time alone. Something she regretted now.