Читать книгу Hunted - Cynthia Eden - Страница 11

Chapter Four

She was the story.

Casey hunched her shoulders as she sat in the back of the ambulance. The EMT had checked her out thoroughly, over her protests. The guy wanted her to go to the hospital, and she figured he’d be forcing her there soon enough. After all, she knew the routine. She’d have to be examined, evidence would have to be taken from her. They’d clean beneath her nails, they’d take her clothes, they’d—

“Tell me what happened.”

Her gaze lifted and she saw Hayden standing at the back of the ambulance. The doors were open and the fury on his face was undeniable. The sheriff was definitely not so controlled any longer.

And neither was Josh. Josh stood beside Hayden, and the FBI agent’s face appeared carved from stone. His eyes blazed as he stared at her.

The FBI and the local authorities had been searching the scene, but they hadn’t found the man who’d taken her. He’d just...vanished.

She saw a coast guard ship out on the water, darting around. Did they think the perp had escaped by sea? She didn’t remember hearing the roar of a boat. She’d just heard the growl of a motorcycle—Josh, rushing to the scene. I will never fear motorcycles again.

“Casey,” Josh said her name softly. “Look at me.”

Her gaze slid back to him. She was sitting on the stretcher in the ambulance. The space was too small. There were too many little machines and the place smelled of antiseptic.

“Tell us what happened.”

She already had, hadn’t she? At least once? Maybe twice. But if they wanted to hear the story again... Casey pushed back her hair with a weary hand.

Josh swore and he bounded into the ambulance with her.

“Your wrists...”

Oh, right. Those were bandaged, too.

His hands caught hers, his touch incredibly gentle. His tenderness kept surprising her. He seemed so rough. Not a guy who could use such care, but when he touched her, he always seemed to handle her as if she were delicate glass.

She wasn’t, though. Far from it. Her gaze darted to her bandaged wrists. “The rope was tight and when I cut myself free, I sliced the skin a bit.” She hadn’t even felt the pain at the time. Her gaze shifted back to his face. Her shoulders rolled back in a shrug, as if to say... Doesn’t matter.

Josh glanced at the watchful EMT. “Give us a minute.”

The EMT hurried out, but stopped to say, “I’m ready to take her to the hospital and—”

“And I’m not done with my witness,” Hayden cut in. “You heard the agent. We need a minute.”

The EMT nodded, ducking his head as he backed away.

Josh’s fingers slid carefully over her hand. “Start at the beginning.”

The beginning? She didn’t want to go back there. “He got away.”

Josh just stared at her.

“That means he’ll kill again.” She had to say those words. Her chest seemed to burn. “It’s what he does, right?”

“You got away,” Josh pointed out. “You’re the first one, Casey. The only one who got away from this perp.”

Because he’d killed the others. Dumped them in the ocean and hunted again. A shiver slid over her. “He said he’d been waiting for me.”

Josh shot a quick glance at Hayden. The sheriff didn’t speak.

“Is that what he always says?” Casey wondered. “Does he tell his victims that he’s been waiting for them? Because he...he acted as if I were special, somehow. Like he’d been...he’d been trying to get me for a while.” Nausea rose within her as she realized that, of course, they didn’t know what he always said. As Josh had just told her...she was...

The only one who got away.

“Go back to the beginning,” Hayden instructed her quietly. “I need to know everything about this guy.”

She shivered. How was it so cold? “I was at my hotel. I’d just...I’d just gone inside after you dropped me off.” She nodded toward Josh and his jaw hardened. “I went onto the balcony for a moment.” Her gaze dropped to her feet. Her bare feet. “When I went back inside, the lights were off, and that was wrong because—” her head was pounding “—I’d turned on the light. It should have been on. I thought maybe there was a short, and I was going to call the front desk but...” Her gaze rose once more to meet Josh’s. She swallowed the heavy lump that had risen in her throat. “He was already in the room. He grabbed me.” Her fingers fluttered over her head. It was aching. Pounding. “He slammed me into the wall. At least twice, I think. I blacked out.”

Josh swore, the words long and low and vicious.

“I don’t remember how I got out here. I just woke up, and I was on the floor.”

“I already sent a crime scene analysis team to your hotel,” Josh said, his voice flat. “Maybe the guy left evidence behind that we can use.”

The FBI and the local authorities were already working closely together, so she wasn’t surprised that a team was already combing over her room. There was also a team at the scene there, going into the partially constructed houses, checking them one by one—starting with the house she’d been inside. Her chill got worse. “Do you think... Did he kill them all in that house?”

Josh and Hayden shared another hard look.

Maybe that look was answer enough.

“There was plastic on the floor,” she whispered. “When I woke up, he had me in that upstairs room, tied up, and there was plastic beneath me.” Just like a scene from a horror show.

“Are you sure you didn’t see his face?” Josh pressed.

The pounding in her head grew worse. “He had on a ski mask. And the eyes—where the ski mask holes should have been, something like mesh covered his eyes so I couldn’t see them. I didn’t see his face. Didn’t see his eyes, but I—I did see his hands.” She eased out a slow breath. “He’s Caucasian. Big—over six feet. Strong. Not heavy, but muscled.” A killer in his prime. “His voice was rasping and low.” Her body swayed as the nausea rolled within her again. For a moment, she thought she might vomit right then and there.

“Casey?” Josh’s hand closed over her shoulder.

“She needs to get to a hospital!” The EMT was back. “The woman suffered head trauma. She needs medical attention and I am insisting, Sheriff, that you let her go.”

Hayden nodded. “I’ll talk to you again, Ms. Quinn.”

Josh started to back away. She tensed and actually thought about grabbing him and making him stay with her.

But she didn’t. Casey let him go. Josh jumped out of the ambulance. The EMT hurried back in to her side.

“You okay, miss?” he asked.

She was so far beyond okay.

Other reporters had already made it to the area. She saw Deputy Finn Patrick trying to hold some of them back so they didn’t contaminate the crime scene. His dark hair was mussed and he appeared shaken. Cameras were rolling. Cameras that would focus on her.

I am the story.

Would her past come to light now? Probably. When the right people went digging, it was easy enough to find secrets.

But maybe...maybe someone already knew her secrets.

The man who’d taken her. The man who’d gotten away.

Josh stared at Casey a moment longer, then he slammed the ambulance doors shut. The siren screamed on.

Her eyes closed.

“You’re safe now,” the EMT assured her. Josh had pretty much said the same words.

But she wasn’t so sure that she was safe.

I think he’ll come after me again.

* * *

JOSH WATCHED THE ambulance drive away—the reporters had to clear a path so the vehicle could get by. The reporters were definitely already swarming the scene. Casey’s story would be huge.

A survivor.

His hands fisted. He’d wanted to stay in that ambulance with her. “Make sure that a deputy remains with her at the hospital,” he snapped to Hayden. “Someone needs to be with her every moment.”

Hayden nodded. “Finn! Finn, get over here.”

The young deputy rushed toward them. Sweat had already slickened the sides of his dark hair. “Sir?”

“Follow the ambulance. Make sure that Casey Quinn is guarded at all times.”

Oh, hell, he was sending the kid after her? The deputy rushed to his patrol car, and Josh muttered, “You think that’s the best plan? A woman survives a serial killer attack and gets the junior ranger for a guard?”

Hayden lifted a brow. “You got a problem with Finn?”

Yeah, he did.

“He’s young, but he’s good at his job. Protecting her will be his priority—”

“Sorry, Sheriff,” Josh said curtly. “But the FBI has ranking jurisdiction here.” The instant they’d confirmed the presence of a serial killer, the FBI had assumed control of the investigation. “And I’ll be taking Casey Quinn into protective custody.”

Hayden’s eyes widened. “Will you now.” Not a question, not really.

The ambulance was gone. And Josh didn’t like having Casey out of his sight. There were some local FBI agents on the scene and he knew he could leave them in the area to help with the search. “I’m going after her.” I should have been in the ambulance with her.

“You think the killer will go after Casey Quinn again?”

“I don’t know what he’ll do, not yet. This is the first time one of his victims has gotten away.” At least, the only victim they knew of escaping. “For all we know, he’ll immediately go gunning for her again, and if that happens, I want more than just Deputy Patrick standing between her and danger.” The kid was still green behind the ears.

“You want to be standing between her and the threat.”

Josh’s chin notched up. “She stabbed her attacker. I think that shows that she’s capable of protecting herself... But her attack...it could very well have enraged the perp.” No doubt about that... My money says the guy is somewhere, choking on his rage. “That means he could fixate on her. He could come at her with all he’s got or...” His sentence trailed off.

“Or...?” Hayden prompted.

Josh glanced at the line of unfinished houses. “Or he will grab the next available victim who matches his profile. He’ll let his rage out on her.” Which meant they needed to be on guard—all of them.

“For someone who said he wasn’t a profiler, you seem to know your killers pretty well.”

He definitely wasn’t a profiler. “I work on evidence collection. I don’t poke into the heads of killers.” His buddy Tucker did that. And Tucker Frost was scheduled to arrive in town any moment. The guy had just finished up a case in Colorado and now he was working on the profile for the killer in Hope. The FBI brass hadn’t been satisfied with the work of the other profiler who’d been in town, and when Tucker finished his last case—he’d been immediately reassigned to Hope. When Tucker arrived, Josh knew the guy would want to speak with Casey right away. She would be key to the investigation.

“I have to make sure she doesn’t say too much to the media.” Another problem. Since she was a reporter, Casey would no doubt want to run live with her story. That wasn’t going to happen.

He turned on his heel and headed for his motorcycle.

“Duvane!” Hayden’s voice thundered after him.

He glanced over his shoulder. He liked Hayden—the guy was tough, smart and didn’t generally take crap from anyone. But then again, Hayden was a former SEAL, and most folks knew better than to mess with SEALs.

“Is this personal?” Hayden asked him, voice quieter.

Personal?

Hayden eased toward him. “You dropped the reporter off at her hotel last night?”

Josh nodded.

Hayden’s head cocked to the right. “Didn’t realize you two knew each other so well.”

They didn’t know each other well. So his reaction to her shouldn’t be as intense as it was. But... “She’s a victim. And my job is to protect victims.” Lately, it seemed as if all he’d done had been to discover the dead. Casey wasn’t dead, and he damn well wasn’t going to let anything else happen to her.

Hayden’s stare was assessing. “Better watch yourself. Once emotions get involved, the cases become even harder.” His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Trust me—I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Josh knew the guy was speaking from experience because the woman Hayden loved, Jill West, had been targeted by Theodore Anderson. Theodore had first kidnapped Jill when she was just a kid, but Jill had managed to escape him. Years later, she’d returned to Hope, determined to finally solve the mystery of her past. But her return had set off a deadly chain of reactions... In the end, Jill and Hayden had both been fighting for their lives.

They’d won, though. They’d stopped the killer. They’d unmasked Theodore Anderson. And now Jill and Hayden were finally free to work on their future together.

But Josh wasn’t Hayden, and Casey...she wasn’t Jill. They didn’t have a past that linked them, and as far as how he felt about her... “Emotions aren’t an issue for me. She’s just a case.” Simple words. Emotions didn’t get to him. He did his job, and he moved on. Simple.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Hayden mumbled.

Josh climbed onto the motorcycle. He glanced over at the house and saw the yellow line of crime scene tape.

Casey could have died in that house.

His jaw clenched. The killer wouldn’t get close to her again. Not on his watch.

* * *

SHE’D BEEN POKED and prodded for hours. Hours. And Casey was not a happy woman. Her control was barely holding on, and any moment, she was afraid she might just break apart.

She didn’t want to break in front of the too friendly nurses. Or the steely-eyed doctors. Or anyone.

“Are we done yet?” Casey asked, fighting to keep her voice calm.

Dr. Abernathy, a young African American woman with small, wire-framed glasses and a no-nonsense manner, looked up from Casey’s charts. “You are a very lucky woman, Ms. Quinn.”

She had to swallow three times before she could manage to speak again. “Luckier than the other victims.”

A faint furrow appeared between the doctor’s eyes.

“I don’t feel sick any longer. I don’t have the headache—”

“It’s good that you’re feeling better, but I’d like to keep you for observation a bit longer. You took a severe blow to the head—”

“I just told you my head felt fine now.” Only a tiny lie. Her head still ached a bit, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

“In concussion cases, the victim may suffer from seizures or convulsions. It’s possible that you could become confused and agitated—”

“I feel plenty agitated right now,” Casey muttered as she fiddled with the paper hospital gown that she was wearing. Her clothes had been taken, confiscated as evidence by the authorities. “Thank you for all that you’ve done. Really, thank you. But I want to get out of here, okay? I don’t have nausea, no blurred vision, no memory lapses. I know our president. I know my birthday. I know—”

The curtain on the side of her bed swung back. “You know that you’re causing trouble.”

Her breath left in a quick rush. Josh. “I—I thought you were at the crime scene.” She pulled up her covers—or rather, the thin sheet that was her only cover, other than the paper gown. “How long have you been here?” Had he just been hanging around, eavesdropping on her talk with the doctor? Didn’t he get there was a whole patient privacy issue going on?

He stepped closer to the bed. A line of stubble coated his hard jaw. “Been here long enough to know that you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“No, I’m not. I let the doctors check me out. I did everything they wanted.” Her shoulders straightened. “Now, I want to go back to my hotel—” But even as she said the words, she stopped. No, she didn’t want to go back to the hotel. She didn’t want to return to that dark room and remember what it had been like when the attacker grabbed her.

“Your room isn’t an option.”

Because a crime scene team was still there? “I’m sure I can get another hotel room.”

His jaw hardened. “What you’re getting is a safe house.”

A what?

“Um, excuse me,” the doctor began.

Josh flashed his ID at her. “FBI. I’m Josh Duvane, and I’ll be seeing to Ms. Quinn’s security.”

“I told you to call me Casey,” she reminded him, again.

He flashed her a hard look.

Fine. Enough of this. Casey shoved back her thin cover. If need be, she’d leave that place in her paper gown. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. She started to rise—

Josh locked his hands around her shoulders and pushed her back down. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. “Yes, I am going someplace. I’m getting out of here. Because I don’t like hospitals. I don’t like getting poked and prodded, and since nothing is wrong with me, there’s no reason I can’t just walk right out of that door.”

There was more to it than that. She had a very specific reason for not liking hospitals. Once, she’d spent far too much time in a hospital. She’d grown to hate those white walls and the scent of antiseptic. That scent was like death to her.

He glanced at the doctor.

“She needs someone to stay with her,” Dr. Abernathy said. “In case she has any issues—blurred vision, slurred speech, convulsions...”

Oh, yes, that lovely list again. “I’ll bunk with my camerawoman. Katrina can make sure I’m okay.” Speaking of Katrina, the woman was probably freaking out. Casey needed to talk with her immediately but no one had let her have a phone.

Not helpful.

“If I make sure she isn’t alone,” Josh said, his hands still around her shoulders, “will she be able to leave?”

Dr. Abernathy nodded. “Yes, but if she displays any of those symptoms, she has to return to the hospital right away.”

He nodded. “Done.”

Done?

“I’ll get an orderly to help Ms. Quinn to the car,” Dr. Abernathy stated briskly. “Patient pickup is located at the front side of the building—”

“And that side is covered by reporters. I’ll be getting Casey out, don’t worry about that.”

The doctor blinked. “Uh, right. Okay, then. I’ll go prepare the discharge paperwork.” She exited the room. Josh didn’t move.

Casey stared up at him. “Safe house?”

“Yes, it’s a place we put victims or potential witnesses so we can be sure that—”

“I know what a safe house is,” she said. “But since when am I going to one?”

“Since you escaped a killer?”

“Josh—”

“I’m afraid you’re being taken into protective custody for the time being.” His hands slid away from her. He turned and paced toward the door—and he picked up a small duffel bag that she hadn’t even noticed before. “And while you’re under protective custody, I have to ask that you refrain from speaking with reporters.”

“I am a reporter.”

He brought the bag to her. She glanced inside and relief filled her. Clothes. The guy had stopped and picked up some of her clothes. “I could kiss you,” she mumbled.

“If you want...”

Her gaze jerked up to his.

He stared at her. The tension between them mounted. She hadn’t even been thinking when she’d spoken. It had just been an expression but now...

She swallowed. “You’re not...you’re not like other FBI agents, are you?”

“You’ve met a lot of us?”

“My fair share.” She felt too exposed. Being in front of him, just that thin gown covering her skin, made her feel too vulnerable. “Side effect of my job, you know? I tend to cross paths with the authorities a lot.” She was rambling. Casey clamped her lips shut.

His hand lifted and he touched her cheek.

Casey flinched.

“Easy...”

“There is nothing easy about how I feel right now.” Her whole life was out of control.

His gaze was on her cheek. “Does it hurt?”

“The cut or the bruise?” Then she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Josh, get me out of here.”

“It matters.” His voice was rough, his gaze gleaming. “It matters one hell of a lot to me.” He stepped away. “Do you need help changing?”

Help... Ah, him? Seeing her naked? “No, I...have it.”

He pulled the curtain back into place.

“You’re just...standing there?” On the other side of that thin curtain?

“I can’t see you.”

She slid off the bed and dressed—slowly. She didn’t want to fall and have him rushing back in to pick her nearly naked self off the floor. After sliding into the underwear and bra, she put on jeans and pulled on a T-shirt. He’d even brought her some tennis shoes. He’d covered all the bases. What a guy.

“Casey?”

She left the gown on the bed. “I’m done.”

He shoved back the curtain. His gaze raked her.

Her hands twisted. “So...a safe house, huh?” Crap. She’d said that before. “Just how long will I be staying there?”

He caught one of her twisting hands in his and led her to the door. “I don’t know yet.”

That wasn’t good. Not knowing implied it could be days. Weeks? No, absolutely not. She had a job. She had a story to cover.

I am the story. Her stomach twisted.

“Who’ll be staying with me?” They were walking down the polished hallway of the hospital. He kept his grip on her hand and he stayed firmly at her side. He’d probably drop her at the safe house and vanish. After all, his work was in the water—

“For the time being, I am.”