Just Now, page 4
Anyone in common? She’d set the search, although she didn’t feel hopeful about the results. But as her phone beeped yet again, Cami felt her heart speed up.
She’d gotten the unexpected. A mutual contact.
“They do have someone in common,” she said to Connor, surprised. “And if you give me a minute, I’ll tell you who they are.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The name Maxwell Reed had come up immediately in the contacts of both women, and the same phone number had pinged Cami’s programs and drawn her gaze simultaneously. Two seemingly unrelated women both knew this man well enough for him to be in their phone contacts? Cami thought that was a massive clue.
Trawling further into the records, she saw that they’d both connected with him recently.
“Who is he?” Connor asked her eagerly.
“His name is Maxwell Reed,” she told Connor. “He’s had phone calls with Kate Minnett and Gracie Foster recently.”
“And what does Mr. Reed do?” Connor inquired.
“According to his listing here, he’s a professional counselor,” she said. “He specializes in health and wellness coaching.”
“So you think he would have seen both women? Clients, maybe?”
“Yes, it would seem so,” Cami confirmed. “The phone calls from Kate and Gracie were made to his work number. And there are calls from his work number back to them again. I would guess that means he did see them both.”
“As clients.” Connor sounded thoughtful.
“It definitely looks that way,” Cami said, scrolling through the call logs.
“You’ve found an important lead there. We need to talk to this counselor, Maxwell Reed, right away. Can you find his address easily?”
“There’s a business address here. I’m not sure where he lives,” she said.
“That, I can look up,” Connor said. He looked stern as he closed his notepad, which was filled with jotted notes, details on the autopsy and on those defensive wounds. She felt relieved to have not really been listening. Thankfully she’d been too focused on pinpointing the contacts.
“Okay. So I see here, from what you’ve found, that his consulting office is about halfway between the two women’s home addresses. And in this database, I’m seeing he lives a few miles away. Again, central.” His voice was meaningful. “It looks like he moved there four years ago. What’s his history, I wonder?”
Gathering more information before they set out, Connor sent his fingers clacking over the keys.
Cami felt a quick, affectionate smile warm her face as she listened to the pace of his typing. She’d know Connor’s rhythm if she was blindfolded. Slow and deliberate, that was him. It wasn’t the rapid machine gun fire that the programmers at MIT did, without even a glance at the keyboard.
And yet, slow as he might be, Connor got results. Like now.
He looked over at Cami, an eyebrow raised. “Now, this is interesting,” he said.
“What is?” She leaned sideways to take a look at the screen. “I don’t understand. What am I seeing?”
“It’s what we’re not seeing,” Connor explained.
“And what’s that?”
“Any past history. It’s like this ID record just popped into life four years ago. There’s something strange about that. It either means it’s been changed or corrupted along the way, or else, it’s new.”
“New?” Cami raised her eyebrows.
“Yup. Might have changed his name, moved from another state. For that, we’d need to go into a different database. It might be a red flag, and he could be a fake. Either way, we need to check it out, and I’m going to put my office onto that while we get going. We need to find out if he’s legit, and if he saw these women.”
Cami felt enthused. Leaving the phones in the office, Connor strode out, waiting for Cami to leave and then locking the office behind them.
As he headed out of the police station, he was on the phone to the FBI office. A month ago, Cami knew with a pang, Ethan would have been his go-to there. Now, she didn’t know who he was speaking to. Perhaps she didn’t want to know. Nobody could fill those shoes, ever. Nobody.
“I want a background check on the health counselor Maxwell Reed.” He read out the address. “There’s something strange about the record. It’s not going back as far as it should, and I want to know why.” He paused. “Great. Thanks.”
Then he strode to the car, with Cami hurrying alongside. This case was already exposing potential irregularities. She felt optimistic that the killer had been careless, and that this would allow them to find the common thread between the victims.
Reed was hiding something. At any rate, she suspected it. And two women were dead.
“I heard you saying, on the phone, that the bodies were moved. Do you know anything about where they were held? Is there anything we need to look out for at his premises? Or his home?” Cami asked.
“Nope. At this stage there’s nothing helpful, but the pathologist will look for more when he does the postmortem. But so far, knowing they were held, and moved after death, does give us some parameters.”
Connor swerved to the left, pulling into the fast lane.
“Yes,” Cami said. “It means this guy—I’m guessing a guy—is strong enough to be able to carry women, he has a place to keep them where other people can’t hear, he has a car to transport them in.” Cami checked off the points on her fingers, causing Connor to give her an approving glance.
“Yup. You’ve got it.”
There was cohesion between them. Cami felt pleased about that. It had taken a while. She and Connor couldn’t have gotten off on a worse footing to start with. She thought back to those conflicted hours they’d spent together, each one resenting the other. And now look at them. They were partners who were on each other’s wavelength.
Or so Cami thought until Connor cleared his throat, and in a different tone of voice, spoke again.
“So. While we’re driving, tell me this.”
She stared at him, suddenly apprehensive.
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me what you’re doing, looking into Ethan’s death and opening old case files,” he said. “I hear you’ve been banging on doors and upending trashcans. Figuratively, at least. What’s going on?”
The words were like a hammer blow. Cami literally gasped. Her heart sped up and her mind was racing. How did he know? How had he found out exactly what she was doing?
“I’m—I’m not,” she stammered. It was a weak, flimsy automatic denial and she knew it wouldn’t wash with him. It didn’t, of course. In between glancing ahead at the traffic, Connor seemed to be pinning her with his gaze in a way she couldn’t escape.
“I don’t want lies,” he said firmly.
Cami swallowed hard, buckling under the gravity of the situation. She had tried to be so careful, and although she had spoken to Liam Treverton, he’d been scared, too. He hadn’t seemed like a man who’d run straight back to the FBI and tell them what had happened. Had someone seen that she’d opened Jenna’s case file? Had it alerted the wrong person? Was that even what Connor was referring to? She guessed he was being deliberately vague, waiting for her to supply the details.
She couldn’t tell Connor. Especially since some of what she’d done had been outside the law. She didn’t want Connor to know, or to be involved, because that would mean he’d tell others, and not only would it then cause trouble for Cami, but someone he told might be the shooter. She doubted Connor knew all his associates well enough to know whether it was or wasn’t them. If he passed this on, it might end up going to unknown people.
“I’m just trying to understand what happened,” she said carefully. “I need closure. I’m just asking a few questions.”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I heard,” he said.
Cami’s heart was pounding in her chest. She knew she had to choose her words carefully, or she could end up completely destroying the trust between them, making a bad situation worse. She swallowed hard, trying to come up with a coherent response which, at the same time, wouldn’t bury her.
“What do you mean? Who told you?” she asked, hoping to buy herself some time.
Connor glanced at her before he focused back on the road.
“I was told in confidence,” he said. “And the person who told me also said that if you go digging, you’ll be opening up a can of worms and putting yourself at risk. So I want to know—what are you doing? What have you found? And I’m not going to take no for an answer here. Not when your safety is an issue.”
His voice sounded as hard as she’d ever heard it.
Nothing could save her now. Connor was like a bulldog when it came to pursuing things like this. He wasn’t going to drop it. He was not going to forget it. The most she could hope for was a temporary reprieve.
And she might have one—for now, at least, because Connor was turning into the street where Maxwell had his office.
“Oh look, is that Maxwell’s place ahead?” she said in a wobbly voice. “Shouldn’t we hurry there?”
“I’m not forgetting this,” Connor threatened. “Questioning this suspect takes priority now. But by the end of today, Cami, I want to know.”
He climbed out of the car and strode toward the office block, leaving Cami scrambling to follow, her hands damp and her stomach twisting with foreboding.
She was in so much trouble. And if she told him the truth, more would follow.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Dance for me.”
His voice was husky. His eyes were fixed on the gap in the wall, from where he could see her bedroom. Or rather, the bedroom he’d made for her. Because it was not the same, although he’d added similar items. For his last victim, a lamp provided the common factor. For this one, he’d found an identical set of scatter cushions, and exactly the same rug in front of the bed.
Now she was sitting, hunched on the bed, looking terrified. Looking for a way out that she wouldn’t find, because there wasn’t one.
“Dance for me,” he pressured her. She’d arrived home late, dressed in a brightly colored smock. He’d done his best to match his own clothing with her colorful personality, wearing a bright blue business suit, a yellow tie, and a crisp white shirt when he met her at the door. It was important to him that he—or rather, the new him—dovetailed with his victims’ personalities.
Maybe that was why he was angry with her now. He’d tried so hard, and now she should have made it easier for him. Anger was always his weak point, the emotion he couldn’t handle. But then, he guessed with a rueful grimace, that was a family trait all right.
She raised her head and stared in his direction. He saw panic flare in her eyes. Yet again, he was glad he’d thoroughly tested the soundproofing of this home, a couple hundred yards from the nearest buildings on a large acreage, and those buildings were old stables, now used to house farm machinery. The stable block further muffled the noise, preventing it from reaching the nearest house, another couple hundred yards away.
She pushed back her curly brown hair and he grinned. Not panic. She was making a weak attempt at defying him. This was going to be a battle—with an invisible adversary, since she couldn’t see him.
“I’m not dancing for you. Let me out,” she said.
“Dance for me!” he insisted. He wanted to see her dance. When he’d watched her through the window last night, she’d been dancing alone in her living room. It hadn’t been for joy. He’d thought she was practicing some steps for the Latin American dancing class she took, but it had still been intriguing, enrapturing even, and he’d absorbed the sight with greedy eyes.
“Please, I can’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice shaking. “I refuse!”
He frowned. He didn’t like when they didn’t comply.
“I said dance,” he growled. “And you’d better do what I say. There is no room for negotiation. Not any at all.”
Slowly, she stood up and began to move. Her body was rigid with fear, but she was doing her best to comply with his twisted request. He watched her every move, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. It wasn’t the dancing that he loved. It was the fact that he was making her do it. He was removing her from her world.
Watching her, waiting for the moment when she’d have to wear those old, shabby clothes, he felt as if he was about to leave the memories of his old life behind for good this time. For a moment, he was a different person. It was an intense surge of joy through him.
As she danced, he moved along with her, hidden from her sight. He wanted to feel every step she took, every move she made. He wanted to be as close to her as possible, to feel her fear and her pain. His heart was pounding in his chest with excitement. He felt alive, more than he had felt in years. This was his masterpiece, his project, his passion. And he wanted to enjoy every moment of it.
Even though she wasn’t really dancing very well, but then, nor was he. He wasn’t much of a dancer either, but it was the thought that mattered.
In any case, it was now time for the next step.
“You can stop,” he said, and watched her. Like a puppet whose strings were cut, she collapsed down.
More to come. This was the next challenge he needed from her. It wasn’t time for her to rest yet, although he knew she would rest soon. Her time was nearly done. But he craved more.
“Put on the clothes on the bed,” he commanded her.
She looked toward him.
“The clothes?”
“Yes. The ones on the bed.”
He’d left a different set of clothes. A set of scruffy old clothes more suited to a man. Plain jeans, a flannel shirt, heavy shoes. She needed to put those on, to step out of her life and to be the sad, struggling person he was long ago. It was a deeply symbolic gesture for him.
“I’m not putting those on,” she said. “Dancing is one thing. But taking my clothes off and putting this on? Are you joking? Why should I do that?” Her voice was high. Shrill.
He felt his patience slipping away. This one was proving to be difficult. They always started out that way, but eventually, they all complied. He just had to be patient.
“You will do as I say,” he warned her, his voice low and menacing. “Or you will suffer the consequences.”
“The consequences?” she repeated, a note of fear creeping into her voice.
“I’m a violent man,” he told her. He didn’t want it to, but his voice rose to a shout. “I’m a violent man and I love what I do. I won’t hesitate to hurt you. Don’t make me! Don’t make me!”
She stared at him, her eyes wide with fear. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
“Okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’m doing it.”
She reached for the clothes with shaking hands, her eyes never straying away from him.
For a moment, he felt a strange twinge of guilt. He pushed it aside quickly. What happened in his own past, the things he’d been forced to do long ago, need not trouble him now. He had moved past that and become his own person. And now she had to do as he said.
She did as ordered, slowly and shakily, her movements jerky and her eyes still wide with fear. She ripped off her clothing with her back to the wall with the holes, not that he was interested in her body. It meant nothing to him. It was her mind that he wanted to see, to sense. That was what gave him the flashbacks, and made him realize with a crumb of comfort that he was on the other side now. The winning one.
When she was done, he nodded.
“That’s fine. No, no. Keep them on. Keep them on. You can rest now.”
She sank down on the bed, wearing the man’s clothes. He could see her shoulders shaking, her face a mess of tears.
“Rest,” he said again, more softly this time. “We’ll go soon.”
She nodded and lay down, curling up into a ball as if to protect herself from the world.
Almost reluctantly, he moved away, leaving her alone with her thoughts and her tear-streaked face.
Deep within, he knew something wasn’t right. What he had done was wrong, he knew that in his heart. But it was only what he’d experienced. All he was doing was passing it on. And at least he killed them afterward. After all, it would be so wrong to let them live in the same misery he’d done.
Ending their lives was doing them a favor.
He smiled as he thought about it, knowing that she couldn’t see him from behind the small holes in that wall.
CHAPTER SIX
As Connor lifted his hand to rap on Maxwell Reed’s office door, he paused, his face changing. Cami felt instant tension fill her. Something was wrong. Had Connor picked up a red flag, or was this something even more serious?
Rushing up to stand beside him, Cami looked anxiously at the red brick building, with the window blinds and the planters outside, and the brass notice board next to the door advertising “Health & Diet Services.”
Then she heard it, from inside.
A breathless, plaintive moaning noise that made her stomach tighten and sent adrenaline pumping through her.
“The hell?” Connor muttered.
Connor raised his hand and brought it down loudly, hammering on the door with a deafening bang. And then, without waiting for an answer, he turned the handle and shoved it hard.
The door wasn’t locked. It burst open and Connor barged his way inside, into a small reception area with a tidy front desk that was unoccupied. A blue office chair was placed behind it, there was a vase of flowers on the desk, and there were a few framed posters on the wall of weight charts, nutrition profiles of fruits and vegetables, and the calorie-burning properties of various exercises.
But the moaning was coming from the door at the back, and it was here that Connor now headed purposefully. Cami could hear thuds and scuffling coming from beyond.
Connor flung his weight against this door. It was locked. He rattled the handle.
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