Emily (Dreamcatchers Romantic Suspense Series Book 1) Page 7

  “What family?” she replied, just as Cathy brought a platter that was way too big to be healthy for even the both of them. She must have overheard them as she shot Reece a look that clearly said Shut up! And then spun on her heels. Probably good advice, but the look on Emily’s face wouldn’t let him let it go.

  “Come on,” he said, popping a fried donut bite in his mouth. “Everybody has a family. And if you get on board with the feds someone will go digging through your entire life story. I would very much rather you tell me yourself.”

  Emily searched his face, for what...he wasn’t so sure. He kept eye contact, making sure she wouldn’t see any judgments from him. Her green eyes swam with uncertainty, and he held her gaze until she spoke again.

  “My father, well I don’t really know him. My mother is Satan’s mouthpiece, and my lovable but completely crazy grandmother died recently. So that makes me an only child with mommy issues, daddy issues, commitment issues, and clearly I have a host of mental issues now too.”

  Reece held back a chuckle at her dramatic statement. He could see the pain behind it in her eyes as she spoke, and there was nothing truly funny about it.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother. It sounds like you loved her a lot.”

  Emily shrugged and looked down at her plate, picking up a piece of bacon and chomping down on it like it was her worst enemy. “My family is completely nuts, I’ve accepted it. What about yours?”

  Oh no, getting personal with her was a bad idea. “Let’s talk about the killer, Emily,” his tone going back to all business. He could see the irritation on her face at the change of subject, but she didn’t argue it. He had a feeling the change of scene had made her comfortable enough to open up a little more with him. He wasn’t ready to go there with her, though. The girl had a way about her that had pulled him in. He’d just freaking met her and already he was trading jokes over breakfast. The depth in her green eyes as she looked his way made him feel things he hadn’t in a long time, but unless those feelings had to do with the psychotic piece of crap roaming about killing innocent women, it was currently irrelevant. Unfortunately for him.

  “I can’t tell you much about him,” she said, the crease in her brows deepening. “I’ve never seen his face, in my dreams or when he attacked me. He’s always heavily cloaked. I noticed one thing, though. He has very nice, straight bright white teeth.”

  Reece’s head shot up at the last bit. “Bright white teeth?” he asked over his glass.

  “Yep, exceptionally white teeth.”

  His first thought was that Emily was jerking him around, but the seriousness in her voice told him she meant it. “OK, white teeth,” he confirmed with a shake of his head.

  “Tell me about his weapon.”

  He watched her face carefully as she described the knife to him, and the symbols she saw etched along the blade. Emily picked up a napkin, and with a pen she swiped from next to the diner’s cash register, she roughly sketched the symbols she remembered. The weapon sounded almost ceremonial, but the curved edge Emily described was consistent with the wounds in the medical examiner’s report. Emily’s hands shook slightly as she passed the napkin to him. Were it not for the paralyzing fear that almost radiated out from her just talking about that night in the alley, he might have been more suspicious. There was definitely something going on with her, but she was no killer.

  Unable to stop himself, Reece reached across the table and took Emily’s hand in his. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know it’s not easy to relive an attack any time, especially not so close to the event.” Blushing again, Emily quickly dropped his hand and grabbed her drink, draining the rest of her juice. Changing the subject to something a little less terrifying to Emily, he was surprised to find himself still sitting there chatting with her an hour later. To his amazement, they’d eaten the entire plate of food, including all the fried donuts. Where on earth was she putting all that? He hadn’t even realized it had gotten so late, but the bright sunlight streaming through the cafe windows told him they’d chatted away most of the morning. It had been the most relaxing Monday morning he’d had in a long time, despite the fact that technically he’d been on the clock.

  His phone rang as he was helping her into her jacket. “Knight,” he answered, placing a hand on her arm to stop her leaving without him. He listened to his co-worker on the other end of the line. “I’m in the middle of something right now, but I can be in the office in an hour.” He turned back to Emily. He eyes were still cloudy with worry, and he felt a dire need to put her at ease. “Let me walk you home and then I need to head into the office.”

  She smiled at him. “Thanks, I appreciate your help, but I’ve taken up enough of your time. It’s not far.”

  “Are you sure? I really don’t mind.” He placed his hand on her arm again, but Emily turned away.

  “I’ll be fine,” she stepped around him. She wasn’t going to be convinced to let him protect her right now.

  He handed her his card. “Just be careful, all right. And if you hear or see anything else tonight give me a call.”

  Emily slipped his card into her pocket, and then he stood and watched her walk away and around a corner. He’d feel a lot better if he could just make sure she got home safe. Screw it, his car was at her place anyway. He pulled out his phone to let his partner know he’d be late. The office was just going to have to wait.

  Emily tried to hide her smile as she walked home to change and grab her things for work. She could still make use of some of the day, despite her current distractions. Hopefully, her boss had gotten her message earlier. Her lips turned up as she remembered Reece’s own grin. His smile was dazzling, and she’d had a hard time focusing on what she should have been at the diner. Like the murderer, that knew where she lived. Reece was equally attractive and infuriating, and as much as she tried to stay mad at him she found herself laughing at his comments. Add on his killer body and the sense of safety that practically oozed from the man, and being around him that morning had been calming. She could get used to him being around. Yep, cause your relationships have worked out so well in the past. On that thought she shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory of Reece’s laugh. She’d do better to concentrate on the man currently trying to kill her.

  As she rounded the next corner, her skin broke out in gooseflesh and she had a sickening feeling that she was no longer alone. She spun around, looking back at the street behind her. No one suspicious stood out, but she knew she wasn’t alone.

  “Shit,” she said under her breath and she put more speed into her step. Her neck prickled, and she could practically feel the coldness of his gaze, but no matter how many times she turned around there was no one there. She turned another corner and the pavement was suddenly deserted, just like in her dreams. The darkness felt too thick to breathe, and as she passed an alley, Emily felt a wrenching twist in her gut. Twisting, she broke into a run and bolted back the way she’d come.

  “Whoa!” strong arms wrapped around her as she ran headlong into a very solid chest, and a familiar voice spoke in her ear. “Are you OK?” Reece asked.

  Steadying herself, Emily stepped backward out of his arms. Her hands shook lightly, much to her disgust. “H-How the hell did you...” the question died on her lips as she turned a suspicious eye to him. “Were you following me?”

  Reece frowned. “You’re the one who ran straight into me. Were you following me?” the corner of his mouth tipped up in a grin, and he chucked her chin. Emily almost smiled, but then a shiver ran up her spine again. He was still here.

  “Someone’s watching me. I can feel him,” she whispered to Reece. A breeze picked up and she peered down the street, looking for what she didn’t know. Emily felt Reece tense beside her as his head whipped around, his blue eyes taking in every moment and examining every corner, every shadow. She shivered again, and he pulled her to him, turning up her collar against the wind, his fingers lingering on her shoulder much longer than was necessary
. She looked up and saw his jaw clenching as his gaze continued to sweep the streets.

  “I don’t see anyone suspicious, but I’m walking you home,” he said, turning to face her and wrapping his arm around her waist. “You walk right beside me the whole way, no exceptions.” His arm felt warm around her and for a moment she imagined what it would be like to be kissed by him. When she didn’t move, he tugged further into his arms and Emily stiffened in surprise. His strong arms just felt too damn good, and she found herself melting into his embrace.

  He looked down at her and she could see the determination in his blue eyes. To protect her, or something else?

  Step away Emily. Don’t get involved.

  She pulled out of his embrace with a little effort. “Sorry,” she said, not really sure what she was apologizing for. After all, it had been him who’d done the hugging. Reece moved back slightly and put his hands in his pockets, but didn’t move from the spot until she started walking. She kept her eyes looking straight ahead, unable to look at the man. He was just too much temptation. Talk about majorly awkward. Sure he was cute, but she needed to keep him at a distance. She’d let Reece protect her from the creepy stalker, but that was it. She’d traveled too far from her old life to ever go back there again.

  11

  The next morning Reece sat at a table the conference room, listening to the Chicago field office NCAVC—the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crimes—coordinator drone on about the case. After he’d taken Emily home, he’d half expected to get a terrified phone call from her in the middle of the night, but all he’d gotten was radio silence. Hopefully, that was a good thing. There’d hadn’t been a report of another body found in an alley that morning at least.

  The coordinator had introduced the three agents from the Behavioral Analysis Unit at NCAVC’s headquarter in Quantico earlier. The agents from the BAU had been collaborating with the field office closest to the last attacks before Chicago, and now they were here.

  He tuned in to what the agent was saying. “The myth of the dirty old man in the raincoat hiding in the shadows has long been reevaluated and disproved. Today we know that society’s most prolific and violent killers are often those who we least suspect of being dangerous at all. Ted Bundy, who killed at least thirty-five women in the 1970’s, was known for his good looks and charisma. He was able to trade on his aura of trustfulness to the point he was able to successfully abduct multiple women in broad daylight. The most prolific serial killer in the United States, Gary Ridgway, was a Navy veteran and had been married multiple times. He confessed to killing forty-nine women though many suspect the true number is more than ninety.”

  Reece already knew all that. This wasn’t getting them anywhere, he needed to be out in the field.

  The team had been working on the case for months and were yet to find a single solid suspect. So far, they’d only managed to find his next victim after they were already dead. There was no doubt that the unsub was a serial killer. He’d tracked the kills from across state lines, and it seemed like this guy was just getting started. He definitely had a type, but there seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to who specifically he chose. The victims were all in their late twenties or early thirties, tall, dark-haired and seemingly in decent jobs. Other than that, they hadn’t managed to find a single connection between them. No workplaces in common, they didn’t visit the same store or establishment on the day they were murdered, no common memberships between all of them, nothing. The victimology study the BAU had undertaken had given them frustratingly little. Tall, brunette and young—that description encompassed thousands of women in Chicago alone. There had to be a reason he went after these women in particular. The victim’s looks weren’t a coincidence, there was sure as hell some reason or motivation for his choice in women. They just needed to figure that out and they’d know how to catch him.

  Another BAU agent spoke. “What we’re likely looking at here is a blitz attack; one so brutal and quick that the victim doesn’t have a chance to fight back,” he paused, making eye contact around the table. “The kills are particularly violent, and include signs that could point to a ritual element to the crimes.”

  Now that has his attention.

  “Could we be dealing with a Satanist?” someone from the other side of the room asked.

  “Unlikely,” the BAU agent replied. “While there have been murders by those claiming to be Satanists, there has never been a single proven case of satanic ritual murder in the USA, let alone by a serial killer. Most crimes committed by self-professed Satanists tend to be misdemeanors and non-violent crimes, such as vandalism or desecrating a church, and often perpetrated by juvenile offenders. While these offenders can turn violent when under the influence of drugs or alcohol, any deaths are usually accidental. There is no evidence to suggest these unsubs would ever become serial.”

  There was no doubt in Reece’s mind that the killer was anything but a fully grown man. He’d managed to restrain tall, and in some cases very fit women using just one hand. He needed the other free to slit their throat. A surge of anger pushed through him at the thought. He was going to catch this asshole.

  “Human sacrifice is a purported feature of some occult belief systems, but there has never been a verified case of human sacrifice, although there have been several isolated cases of ritual animal sacrifice. The word occult means hidden and by its very nature, and part of what makes these claims so hard to prove or disprove is the secretive and variation of rituals, even across the same religious beliefs. Research into motivation for ritual killings has shown that the practice is thought to lead to transformation, self-deification, and healing. Many people also believe that human sacrifice is undertaken to draw down dark forces.”

  “OK, so not a satanic cult, just some jackass who wants to call down the apocalypse,” an agent piped up.

  The BAU agent met his stare, and the guy’s smile dropped. “Make no mistake. There have been and will continue to be cults that kill. Jim Jones convinced his followers to kill five people, including a congressman, before over three hundred followers took their own lives in the second largest loss of American civilian life from a deliberate act. It was eclipsed only by September 11. Charles Manson’s groupies killed nine people while under his influence. There has just never been a cult that kills in a ritualistic manner.

  “Whether it’s a legitimate use of the symbology, or just someone looking to make excuses for their crimes, it is a mistake to underestimate the influence of claims of ritual murder on even the most experienced law enforcement agents. Because of the highly charged emotions surrounding Satanism and other little-understood religions, linking a crime even falsely can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

  The lights in the room dimmed, snapping Reece back to attention as the agent up front filled the screen with photographs of religious rituals. Men standing in a circle, heads bowed in the moonlight, fire-walkers and others dancing rapidly, a crowd surging, covered in what looked like blood, and lastly, a man lying on the sand surrounded by candles casting glowing symbols into the darkness. An image appeared that teased at the edge of his brain. Why did that look so familiar?

  The BAU agent continued. “This photograph was taken during a Santeria ritual. Santeria combines the cultural and spiritual beliefs of the South-western Nigerian Yoruba tribe with the religious practices of the Catholic faith. It consists of using magical rituals to worship or satisfy a pantheon of gods and goddesses known asorishas. The religion has its roots in nature and natural forces, and does believe in animal sacrifice.”

  Reece tilted his head to the side, examining the photo when he was suddenly chilled to the bone.

  The knife!

  He pulled a napkin out of his pocket. He hadn’t put much stock in Emily’s dream ‘evidence’ at the diner, but here it was reflected back at him from the case files of ritual killings. He had to talk to Emily. Right now.

  Walking to work that morning, Emily felt re-energized for the first time i
n a week. She’d even dressed in a favorite dress for work; black with a pink trim and a bow on the belt. Wearing it helped boost her mood further. She hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours, but for the first time in a long while, it had been peaceful. She smiled to herself, remembering what had helped her sleep.

  Afraid to close her eyes again the night before, and too wary to go into work on her own after the invisible stalker incident, she’d sat at her computer researching late into the night. This time, she’d paid more attention to people and cases she’d previously dismissed, thinking them to be fleeting fancies of people who needed to get a life or the intricate scheme to con people out of a few dollars. Now, she thought something else entirely. She carefully read every word, making notes on every prediction and report, and then comparing them to reality, and to what she was experiencing. Around two a.m. the words had started to swim in front of her eyes, and her thoughts had drifted to Reece. Was he right? She wasn’t crazy, but maybe she should see someone. Maybe they could help her move on from this. She was the one who’d moved halfway across the country to escape her life, after all.

  Sure, and then I’ll invite the killer around and we’ll all discuss it over tea.

  Sleep had finally crept into her fuzzy brain an hour later, but she had still been too afraid to give in. The dreams from last night had started to merge with her research in her brain, creating a kind of macabre pantomime. She’d laid her head down on her arms on the desk, a sigh escaping her lips as Reece’s face joined the memories in her tumbled thoughts. She was weighted down by life these days, but just thinking of his presence had brought her a little comfort. Her neck tingled as she remembered the way he’d brushed his hands against her skin, turning her collar up. It had been a sweet gesture that warmed her heart as much as it had kept away the chills from the cold wind. Sitting there in the diner, his blue eyes had almost looked right into her, and she couldn’t control the warmth that now fluttered through her stomach at the thought of him.