Speak No Evil

TWENTY-FIVE

THE BRISK KNOCKING on the door woke Nick from a deep sleep. He sat up, trying to get his bearings. The Kincaid apartment. Right. Carina’s father had helped him up the stairs after their conversation.

He ran a hand through his damp hair. He’d slept rough, the memories and nightmares weaving in and out, deserting him finally to give him two hours of heavy sleep. The clock read 8:30. He never slept that late. But after the colonel helped him up the stairs, they’d shared a couple shots of good whiskey, talked some more. Nick didn’t know if it was the colonel’s way of sizing him up for his daughter, or just because he was a guest at their house. But he’d enjoyed the company.

Expecting to find Carina on the doorstep, he couldn’t hide his surprise when Dillon Kincaid stood outside with two tall mugs of coffee. He handed one to Nick. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Nick stepped aside, sipped the coffee. “I guess I slept in. Did we have a meeting scheduled?”

“No.”

“Any word from Patrick about the MyJournal information?”

“Not that I know.”

“You know he’s going to kill again.” Nick pulled on a T-shirt and sat on a chair at the small table. He sipped the coffee; it was rich and spicy, and hit the spot.

“If we don’t find him. Third time’s the charm-separates the standard killer from the serial killer. Angie, Becca, Jodi. I wish we had more evidence, but it looks like you and the rest of the team have been working virtually around the clock.” Dillon sat down across from him, sipped his own coffee.

“I’d say yes, except you caught me sleeping in.” Nick played with the mug. “Why Becca?” he asked. “She doesn’t fit the profile.”

“There’s definitely a connection, even if she doesn’t fit what we think is the profile. Becca didn’t have a MyJournal page, didn’t spend any time online that wasn’t related to school or e-mailing friends. But there is a connection between Becca and the killer, probably through the library. My biggest question right now is, why? Why did he go after Becca now? When we knew he had targeted Jodi.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Nick said.

“You have a theory?”

Nick paused to put together his thoughts. “You heard about the webcam in Jodi’s apartment, right?”

Dillon nodded.

“Patrick said it was installed Wednesday, late morning or afternoon. Which makes sense because we determined that the girls were out of the apartment at that time. Jodi’s window was unlocked. Whether she did it or the killer did it, we don’t know.”

“Becca was abducted Wednesday night, not Jodi.”

“Right. Why?”

Dillon thought, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he couldn’t get to Jodi.”

“Exactly. Because she didn’t drink the right beverage. He drugged every open container. There were a couple of beer bottles and water bottles in the refrigerator, too. Untampered. Because if you pull out a beer bottle, open it, and it doesn’t make that whoosh sound of carbonation being released, you think there’s something wrong with it and you toss it, right?”

“Sounds logical.”

Nick leaned forward, on a roll. “So what if he’s watching her, sees that she takes the wrong drink? What’s his reaction?”

“Anger. Frustration. She’s not playing along.”

“Right. His first instinct?”

“To prove he’s still in control.”

“Which means that he takes the first girl he sees, someone he’s familiar with, at least on the surface.”

“That’s reckless, and he’s been anything but reckless.”

“Yes, but remember what you said the other day?” Nick asked. “That the killer was young? Immature was your exact word. When someone acts immaturely, they’re reckless. Make mistakes. Lash out. He’s an amateur. So he’s mad that Jodi didn’t drink a tainted beverage, and he looks up and sees Becca. He tells her about his dead cat.”

“Matching the MO of Scout online.”

“Exactly. Scout was at the library Wednesday night and because Jodi didn’t do what she was supposed to do, he took the first woman he could.”

“Becca Harrison.”

“The librarian said she’d been talking to him, friendly. He tells her about the cat, she feels sorry for him. Maybe looks at him and smiles, further egging him on. She doesn’t know it, she thinks she’s being nice and sympathetic. He leaves first, waits for her.”

“But any number of things could have happened. Someone could have walked out with her. The library is on a busy street, anyone could have walked past.”

“Yes, but Becca was in the parking lot in the back. More secluded. And if she wasn’t alone, he could have followed her, learned where she lived.”

“Abducted her from her home, just like he did Angie and Jodi.” Dillon nodded. “I see what you’re getting at.

“Crime of opportunity.”

“But why watch the webcam from the library? That’s more dangerous than going home.”

“I don’t know. Maybe the thrill of being in public. Maybe he was working or going to work or school-”

“And couldn’t get home between wherever he was and where he had to be,” Dillon suggested.

“Any number of reasons.”

“So, Jodi didn’t work out, and he kidnapped Becca instead.”

“And he escalated, brought her closer to him so he could feel her die.”

“And kidnapped Jodi at the first opportunity.”

“Because she was his first choice.”

Dillon and Nick realized they’d hit on something important, the reason Becca didn’t fit the victim profile. She was a spontaneous abduction.

“Who’s next?” Nick asked.

“I should be asking you. You could do my job.”

“I don’t envy you. I had enough of serial killers in Montana to last a lifetime. We should bring Carina in, tell her our theory. We need to get back to the library, track down everyone who was there Wednesday night, or any other night Scout was there. Maybe between all the potential witnesses we can get a good physical description.”

Dillon nodded. “I agree, but I didn’t come up here to talk about the case.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I had breakfast with my dad. He said your knee is giving you some trouble.”

Embarrassment and a touch of anger washed over Nick. He didn’t like talking about his physical problems, and he hadn’t expected the colonel to talk about them, either.

Dillon went on. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing. I have medication, but I don’t like to take it.”

“Medication is to mask the pain, not fix the problem.”

“The problem isn’t fixable.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I didn’t know shrinks were also surgeons.” Damn, he sounded defensive. He didn’t mean to, he just didn’t feel comfortable talking to Carina’s brother about his limitations.

“I was in sports medicine before Justin was murdered. I’d already finished med school at the time, so yeah, I guess you could say I have some experience with injuries, especially joints and muscles.”

Nick didn’t say anything for a long minute. “I had surgery. It didn’t work the first time. I’m scheduled to go back next month, but I’m not holding out hope that it’ll work.”

Dillon looked at his knees, nodded. Nick resisted the urge to cover his scars. And while he’d done everything he could to regain the weight he’d lost the past year, he was still twenty pounds short of his goal. His legs looked too skinny and damaged.

“Surgery on both knees. I can see they went in aggressively.”

“I had an infection, among other things, that weakened my joints. I now have septic arthritis.” He tried to laugh and make a joke. “Thought arthritis was only for old people.”

“Septic arthritis is usually caused by physical damage that results in severely reduced blood flow for an extended period of time.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Dillon nodded. “Well, if you ever want me to take a look, I’m still up to speed on sports injuries. Patrick played ball in college and considered me his personal physician.”

“It’s not a sports injury.”

“Same joints, same muscles. And you are human.”

“That I’m well aware of.” Nick shifted in his seat. “Thank you for the offer. I probably won’t be around long enough, but I’ll let you know how the surgery goes.”

Dillon stood, looked at him. “I hope you’ll keep in touch when this is all over.” He nodded at Nick’s empty mug. “My mom cooked enough to feed an army. I think she’s expecting you.”

“I don’t want to put her out.”

“She’d probably be more upset if you didn’t show up. Wouldn’t want her to think you didn’t like her cooking.”

Dillon left and Nick buried his face in his hands. The upcoming surgery worried him. He wanted it to be a success, but the doctor had told him not to get his hopes up, that there was no guarantee his knees would ever get better.

“Just do it, Doc. The earliest you can.”

“March is the soonest. Don’t expect a miracle.”

“It can’t get any worse.”

“Don’t be so sure, Sheriff.”

March first was two weeks away, the week before the filing deadline. He wanted to know the outcome of the surgery before he made a decision on running for sheriff again.

It wasn’t fair to the people of Gallatin County if he couldn’t do the job.

Jim woke Carina Saturday morning with a phone call. “Dr. Chen is coming in to handle Jodi Carmichael’s autopsy at eleven. Can you make it?”

“Absolutely.”

“Bringing the country sheriff with you?”

“You have a problem with Nick?” She slid out of bed and went into the kitchen to start coffee.

“No.” He paused. “He’s out of his jurisdiction. Don’t you think that’s a problem?”

“He’s a sworn officer of the court, Jim. Why’s it a problem if he wants to spend his vacation helping us on this case? We have three dead girls, and he has experience with these types of cases.”

“I know. I did a little research on him last night.”

That irritated Carina. “What? You did a background check on him?”

“Nothing that intensive. And I’m surprised you didn’t.”

“I did check into him.” While her coffee brewed, she opened the French doors that led to her wraparound deck.

“How deep?”

“I know about the serial killer in Bozeman. My partner and I discussed this already and decided to use Sheriff Thomas’s help. Why do you care? I’m not compromising the investigation.”

“But what do you really know about him?”

“He’s a good cop who caught a serial killer.”

“Well, the FBI caught the serial killer. Your sheriff was kidnapped by him. Doesn’t sound like a competent cop to me.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“It was all over the papers, Carina. Read between the lines.”

“I don’t need to. I know what I need to know. Thanks for the heads-up on the autopsy. I’ll be there.” She hung up, frowning.

She didn’t want to listen to Jim. She knew what she needed to know about Nick Thomas, and she was confident in her judgment. A little tickle in the back of her mind: why was Nick still here? His brother had been cleared of Angie’s murder; there was really no reason for him to stay.

Except that the case had gotten to him. Just like it had her.

But eventually, sooner rather than later, he’d be going back to Montana. She just didn’t want to think about it. She liked him, liked having him around, liked working with him.

She went back inside, poured herself a cup of coffee, and took it with her to the shower.

If she’d had her way, Nick would be in the shower with her right now. What had gone wrong last night?

She had felt how much he’d wanted her. Maybe she’d pushed too much. And his knees-he’d been in pain half the night and hadn’t said anything. Why hadn’t she thought about that when she’d been thinking about taking him to bed?

Nick was also a gentleman, and she had suggested they go upstairs. Above her parents’ house. Not smart, Kincaid.

She’d never once asked any man to bed under her parents’ roof. In fact, when she’d lived in the apartment above the garage she’d never had a man over. It felt wrong, somehow. But that had completely slipped her mind when she’d been kissing Nick in the car. All she’d thought about was him, how much she wanted to make love to him. Common sense had disappeared.

What was she doing even thinking about becoming involved with a man who wouldn’t be around? He would go back to Montana in a few days, maybe a week. Could she do that to herself? She’d never been able to have sex with someone and just walk away as if it meant nothing. She’d never wanted to have sex with a man she didn’t feel something special for.

She shivered. The thought of Nick leaving made her uncomfortable. But wouldn’t that be best? Have a great, sexy affair, no strings attached?

Was that what she wanted?

She turned the shower off and grabbed her towel. She didn’t know what she wanted anymore, except somehow Nick had become involved in her life and she didn’t want to extract him. One day at a time. Close this case, have sex with Nick, then maybe she’d figure it all out.

She wrapped the towel around her body and walked toward her bedroom.

“Hey, sis.”

She jumped, holding her towel tight, and twirled around. Her brother was standing in the kitchen, looking straight down the hall toward her. “Dillon Kincaid, you’re lucky I don’t have my gun.”

“And you’re lucky I’m not an intruder. Taking a shower with the door unlocked?”

She ignored the jibe. She’d forgotten to lock it when she came in from the porch. “Give me five minutes.”

She dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt with “Beach Bum” stenciled in blue across the front. She wasn’t on duty and had already logged all the overtime hours she was going to get for the week, but since she was going down to the station to put in time on the three homicides and observe another autopsy, she holstered her gun and tossed a blazer over her shoulder.

She went into the kitchen for a second cup of coffee and to find out why Dillon had stopped by.

“You make great coffee, sis,” Dillon said, taking a sip. “Too bad it doesn’t extend to your cooking.”

“Tirón,” she mumbled. Jerk.

Dillon grinned.

“Did you stop by just to annoy me?”

“I had breakfast with Mom and Dad and thought I’d stop by and tell you Andrew and I are petitioning Judge DuBois at noon to obtain a warrant for IP addresses that match the ones on the MyJournal list.”

“DuBois? That’s good. She’ll give it to you-wait! Are you saying Patrick had a breakthrough? Why didn’t he call me?”

“Not yet, but he’s close and didn’t want to have to drag a judge out in the middle of the night. He called me because I’m going at it from a psychiatric angle-that the killer is going to strike again based on what we know, and that obtaining the private information of citizens who may not be involved in order to learn the identity of the killer is essential to protecting the public, yada yada. DuBois will give it to us, but we have to jump through the right hoops. If we get the warrant thrown out after an arrest, I don’t have to tell you how screwed we are. We’ll get the warrant, then it’s all up to Patrick.”

“I owe him one. He’s been pulling all-nighters for me.”

Dillon drained his coffee and put the mug in the sink. “I saw Sheriff Thomas over at the house. I’m surprised he’s stayed on.”

“Why?”

“He’s a sheriff, for one. He has a busy job.”

What was she supposed to say? She’d been wondering about the same thing just this morning.

“Have you noticed any physical limitations?”

“You mean his knees.”

Dillon nodded. “You know he had surgery.”

“He told me.”

“Be careful. He’s not Will.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Will has your back, and he’s capable of covering it. Sheriff Thomas isn’t even officially involved in the case, and he’s not your partner.”

“I think you’re worrying about nothing.”

“I hope.”

“What’s all this dumping on Nick?” She put her own mug in the sink. “I get a call from Jim and he’s all uppity about him.”

“Jim’s jealous.”

“He has nothing to be jealous about. We broke up over a year ago.”

“It’s a guy thing.”

“Guy thing. Right.” She took a brush from her purse and pulled it through her hair. “Nick has been an asset on this case. You said so yourself.”

“I agree. He has a sharp mind. He has a theory about the killer that I think is right on the money.”

“Why’d he share it with you and not me?”

“Because I was there and we were bouncing ideas back and forth. I hadn’t intended to talk about the case. He thinks the killer planned to kidnap Jodi on Wednesday night, after he planted the webcam in her kitchen, but she didn’t drink the drugged beverages. He grew angry and grabbed someone else.”

“Becca. Wrong place wrong time?”

“More like he knew her or had seen her and she was easy to subdue.”

“But that makes a connection between him and Becca, if they were in proximity.”

“Exactly. The library. And thinking about it, I think Nick is right.”

“Why?” But already Carina was putting together the pieces.

“Because the killer is immature. He was angry that Jodi messed up his plan. Ruined his fantasy. He had to take a woman that night. He had it all thought out. Probably had all the supplies on hand. Becca was there, she was nice to him, he waited for her.”

“It makes sense. Doesn’t help with figuring out who’s next.”

“Chief Causey said you have a twenty-four/seven watch on Abby and Kayla.”

“If his plan was Jodi all along, and Becca was just convenient, then Abby and Kayla could very well be in danger.”

“I agree. I also think he has other women he’s stalking. Probably connected with where he goes to school or where he works.”

“I have an undercover cop at the library during the hours he is most likely to be there, but now I’ll put one on-site full-time.”

“Good.”

Carina glanced at her watch. “Jodi Carmichael’s autopsy is in an hour. I have to pick up Nick and head over there. Do you want to observe?”

“At the beginning, then I need to meet Andrew at the courthouse. By the way, I like him,” said Dillon.

“Him who? Andrew?” She scrunched up her nose. Though she respected her former brother-in-law as the district attorney, she and her brothers had never liked him.

“The sheriff.”

“You were just lecturing me about what he was doing hanging around the case.”

“Hmm, not quite. I was just curious, mostly.”

Carina playfully hit him.

“Seriously, I like him. He’s one of the good guys.”

Carina shook her head. “Get out of here so I can lock up. I’ll meet you at the morgue.” She didn’t know what to make of Dillon’s pronouncement, but decided not to look too deeply at it. It made her feel, well, like a teenager again when Dillon put his stamp of approval on her boyfriends.

But she was secretly pleased. Dillon’s instincts about the men in her life were usually accurate.

It took less than two minutes to back out of her garage and drive the block to her parents’ house. She ran up the stairs to the garage apartment and pounded on the door. “Hey Nick! You decent?”

No answer.

She ran back down the stairs and through the side door into the kitchen. Nick was standing at the sink rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher. Nick was a big guy, broader than her dad, built more like her brother Connor, the PI. He looked strange in her mother’s kitchen, but at the same time oddly domestic, almost like he fit.

She shook her head. It was all Dillon’s fault, coming into her house telling her he liked Nick. What was with that? She knew better than to get involved with cops. No matter how sexy they looked doing dishes. Especially since he would be going back to Montana, and that would be that.

But it wasn’t like he worked in the San Diego Police Department, so technically he wasn’t a colleague, so she wouldn’t be breaking her rule.

That’s it. She had to do something to stop thinking about Nick carnally. Right now she was thinking about him doing the dishes naked. Now that was sexy. A man doing the dishes was one thing, doing them sans clothing was just plain fun.

She really needed to get him out of her system.

“Cara, darling.” Her mom came out of the walk-in pantry, a smile on her round face. “Let me get the fruit salad from the refrigerator. Do you want some toast?”

Carina jumped, blushed. Had she ever blushed before? She didn’t think so. But her mom had caught her thinking about sex, and Carina was positive her mother could read minds.

“No, Mama, I’m fine. Really.”

Her mother stared at her closely, eyes narrow. Carina put on a blank face and pushed all thoughts of Nick’s naked body from her mind. “What did you eat this morning? You don’t eat breakfast, so don’t lie to me.”

Food. Her mom’s favorite pastime was feeding her, so maybe she hadn’t seen the lust on her face. “I had coffee.”

“Pshaw! Coffee!”

She opened the refrigerator. Carina glanced at Nick, who’d finished with the dishes. He was grinning, trying to suppress a laugh. For the first time, she saw him relaxed. She wasn’t surprised; her mother had that effect on people.

She caught Nick’s eye, wrinkled her nose at him.

“Mama, we have to go. Duty calls.”

“How can you do anything on an empty stomach?”

“I promise, I’ll have a good lunch.”

“No come bien, míja. Solamente trabája, trabája, trabája. ¡Madre de Dios! ¿Como te ayuda?”

“Mama, stop that.” Carina turned to Nick. “She said I never eat.”

“I know.”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Some. Enough to get by.”

Her mother smiled broadly. “I knew I liked Nicholas the moment he walked into my home.”

“Mama, we have work.”

She glared at Carina. “Work, always work. It’s Saturday.” She shook her head. “I raised a house of workaholics. Even Lucy is upstairs doing homework!”

“I don’t believe it,” Carina laughed. “Homework on a Saturday morning?”

“She’s on that computer Papa bought her last year. She never gets off.”

Carina glanced at Nick, his expression turning as serious as hers. She’d never really talked to Lucy about the dangers of being online. Even though Lucy was a smart kid, online predators were viciously smart. Street smart. She needed to talk to Lucy about being safe, but she’d have to do it later.

Her mom smiled widely at Nick. “You’ve been very helpful, Nicholas.” She surveyed the dishwasher, closed it. “My sons tend to be rough with my dishes. You have good hands.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Rosa.”

“Mama, we really have to go,” Carina said. She glanced at Nick. “Autopsy,” she mouthed.

“I’m ready,” Nick said. “Thank you for a delicious breakfast, Mrs. Kincaid. Unlike some people,” he glanced at Carina with a half-smile, “I appreciate a good morning meal.”

“Kiss-ass,” she said.

“Carina Maria!”

She cringed, gave her mom a hug. “See you later, Mama.”

“Don’t know where you learned that language,” her mother said as they walked out.

In the car, Nick said, “Your mom is a great lady.”

“You are such a kiss-ass, Nick Thomas.”

She thought he’d smile, joke back with her, but instead he grew serious.

“Is something wrong?”

“I like your mom. And your dad. They’re really genuine people.”

If there was one thing that endeared someone to Carina, it was appreciating her parents, quirks and all. Her heart warmed and she pictured Nick in her mom’s kitchen. He fit in well.

She was in serious trouble. “I like them, too,” she said, trying to keep the conversation light. “What about your parents?”

Nick didn’t say anything for several minutes. Carina itched to ask a follow-up question, anything to get the conversation moving. She hated the silence.

Finally, he said, “We had what I thought was a normal family. My dad was in the military, like yours, but not career. He had two years in Vietnam, when Steve was a baby. I was born nine months after his discharge.”

Carina was about to make a joke, but a quick glance at Nick’s face as she turned the corner to the main road told her this wasn’t funny, not to him.

“Dad joined the reserves because he missed the military, was gone one weekend a month minimum, volunteered for everything. I don’t think my parents loved each other, not like yours. But they had, I don’t know, something. It was Steve and me, though, all the time. I followed him around everywhere. I wanted to be more like him, I guess. Confident and outgoing.”

“I like you just fine the way you turned out,” she said.

“I don’t have many complaints. I had a good life for the most part. Normal. But after my father died, my mother didn’t really have the heart to keep going. She died a couple years later.”

I’m sorry seemed so inadequate. “I’m lucky, I know,” Carina said instead. “We had some rough spots over the years-I was an army brat until I was sixteen. We moved all over the country. I hated it. When my dad retired here, it wasn’t soon enough for me. But even with all the moves, the new schools, making new friends, my family was always there.”

“Yes, you’re very lucky,” Nick agreed.