Читать книгу Operation Xoxo - Elle James - Страница 10

She clutched his shirt like she was grasping for purchase on the face of a drop-off. She felt like she had fallen over the edge of a cliff, straight into her past.

Just seeing Paul and Melissa made the memories of the nightmare all too vivid. These two talented FBI agents had been in Riverton and assisted in the investigation that ultimately identified the Dakota Strangler as Stan Klaus, Elise’s husband. During the evacuation of the flooded town of Riverton, Paul had been the one to help get her, the boys and her aging mother out of the evacuation center when the press converged on her.

The solid wall of Paul’s chest and the security of his arms triggered all the emotions she’d repressed. All the fear, desperation and disbelief rushed in and threatened to swamp her.

She’d held it together for the boys, but now that help had arrived, sobs rose in her throat and she pressed her mouth to his chest to keep from crying out and scaring the children. She needed to stay strong for the boys and so far she wasn’t doing a good job of it. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs and she huddled in Paul’s arms, wanting to stay hidden from the world.

“Hey, boys,” Melissa said behind her. “Why don’t you show me that swing set I see in your backyard. Think I can swing on it?”

From the corner of her eye she saw Brandon run around Paul’s side and stare up at the man, his eyes narrowed into tight slits. “Did you make my mother cry?”

“No, I didn’t.” Thankfully, Paul shielded Elise from her son’s view.

“Did you hurt her?” the boy demanded, his voice rising.

“No, sir.”

Elise gulped back more tears and tried to collect herself enough to face her oldest son.

Brandon crossed his arms over his little chest. “Let my mother go.”

“It’s okay, Brandon. Paul’s a nice guy,” Elise said into Paul’s damp shirt, her sobs drying and turning into hiccups.

“Let her go.” Brandon stuck his hands between them and attempted to split them apart.

Paul glanced to Melissa for help.

“Let her go!” Brandon’s rage turned to tears when all the pushing he did resulted in nothing. He balled his fists and beat against the backs of Paul’s legs.

Elise pushed away from the warmth of Paul’s arms and squatted next to Brandon, gathering him close. Luke edged in on the hug, his little face creased in a frown to match his brother’s.

Melissa lifted him into her arms. “Come here, little man.”

Elise’s lack of control over her emotions made her sons uneasy. Both boys needed reassurance as much as she did, if not more. She was the adult. Adults must be strong. Then why the hell did she feel like she was falling apart? “It’s okay, Brandon. Paul’s not hurting me.” She scrubbed at the tears on her cheeks and pushed her hair back from her forehead. “I’m okay. I was crying because I was so happy to see Paul and Melissa. Do you remember them?”

In the circle of his mother’s arms, Brandon glared from Paul to Melissa, his gaze returning to Paul as if he expected Paul to make another move on his mother.

Elise had never told Brandon why his father had died in a fire or that he was a bad man. She had told him that he was now the man of the house and it was up to him to help her. He’d taken his responsibilities seriously over the past two years, sometimes forgetting it was okay to be an eight-year-old boy.

Kendall Laughlin pulled up beside the picket fence on her bicycle and braked to a halt. “Hi, Ms. Johnson. Hi, Luke. Yo, Brandon.”

Luke squirmed in Melissa’s arms. “Kenny!” Melissa set the child on his feet and he was off like a shot and through the gate. “I have a bike now. You wanna see?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the gate.

Kendall laughed and smiled down at the six-year-old. “Let me get off mine first.” She shot a curious look at Elise. “Is everything okay?”

Elise stood, her hand lingering on Brandon’s shoulder. “Yes, Kendall, everything’s okay.” My world is catching up to me and my killer husband might be alive, but everything’s just fine and dandy. She attempted a smile that turned into a grimace. “Kendall, could you do me a big favor?”

“Sure.” She climbed off her bike and rolled it into the yard.

“Could you watch the boys for a few minutes while I talk to…my old friends, Paul and Melissa?” And please don’t ask too many questions. Her students couldn’t know about her past. Her principal couldn’t know or her peaceful life would be shattered. Who wanted the wife of a serial killer teaching children in their school? Elise had never hurt another human in her life. But her husband had killed five people that she knew of.

“I’d love to. Luke and I are old friends already. Aren’t we, buddy?” She ruffled the boy’s hair.

Luke jumped up and down. “Come see my new bike.”

Brandon stuck by Elise’s side, his hand creeping into hers. “I don’t want to play.”

“Go with Kendall. I promise, everything’s okay.” She stared down into her son’s eyes. “As the man of the house, you need to help me keep an eye on your brother.”

His face scrunched into a fierce pout and he glared again at Paul. “Kendall can watch him.”

“She doesn’t know all his hiding places.” She let go of his hand. “You do. So it’s up to you to keep your brother safe and in the yard. Neither one of you is to leave the yard, understand?”

Brandon nodded.

She patted his shoulder instead of bending down to hug him close. He wouldn’t appreciate being treated like a child in front of the other adults. “I need a few minutes to talk to Mr. Fletcher and Ms. Bradley, alone.”

“Come on, Brandon,” Luke called out. “You can show Kenny your new bike, too.” With Kendall’s hand clutched in his, Elise’s youngest son tugged the teen across the yard, grabbed his brother’s hand and headed for the back.

Brandon pulled loose of Luke’s grip and gave his mother one last look as if to say, Are you sure?

Elise nodded, a reassuring smile plastered to her face. “Go on, honey. We’ll be in the house.”

Dragging his feet, Brandon followed Luke and Kendall around the side of the house to the shed where the bicycles were stored.

Paul’s gaze followed the boys. When they were out of sight, he turned to Elise. “Want to show me the note?”

The mention of the note set her heart racing again. If she could she’d have burned it and scattered the ashes to the winds, as if by doing so, her troubles would blow away. “It’s in the house.”

She led the way into the living room, taking no pleasure in all the warm and colorful furnishings that were so different from the Spartan look Stan had preferred. The note had turned her happy and sunny home sinister, a place where evil lurked, waiting to pounce. She crossed to the kitchen and glanced out the window.

Brandon and Luke had their bicycles out of the shed. Kendall smiled and laughed with the boys, admiring their new wheels.

Elise pulled the letter out of her purse and held it out for Paul to see. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I’ll tell you…it has me scared.”

Paul pulled a rubber glove from his hip pocket and stretched it over his large, capable hand before he took the note from her. He turned it over, inspecting the outside of the envelope. “Where did you find it?”

“It was in my mailbox cubby at school today.” Elise spun away and paced across the ceramic kitchen tiles. This was her home, a place where she could make new friends and her boys could grow up unencumbered by their father’s crimes. Fear turned to anger and she marched back across the tile to face the two agents. “Tell me, guys. What really happened to Stan? Did he, or did he not die in that fire?”

Elise’s blue eyes blazed, the anger a welcome change from the defeated and frightened young woman of a moment ago. Paul remembered the shock and disbelief in her face after she’d learned what her husband had done two years ago.

She’d suffered through the stares and whispers of the people she’d sat beside in church for years. They’d shunned her as if she’d been the one to kill those innocent women. They couldn’t understand how her husband could have committed all those crimes with her unaware. Didn’t she live in the same house?

Paul had heard the whispers, the catty remarks and the name-calling. When the reporters descended on her, he’d been there to get her out and relocate her to a private room where she, the boys and her mother remained out of the spotlight. All the while, she’d put up a strong front for Brandon and Luke, shielding them from the ugliness as best she could. They had been too young to understand and hopefully too young to remember.

He stared down at the letter, like so many others he’d seen on the case in Riverton, North Dakota. Had Stan Klaus lived through the fire and flood? They’d never found his body. “We’ll have the letter examined by our lab.”

Melissa pulled out an evidence bag from her back pocket and opened it.

Paul dropped the letter inside. “What did it say?”

Elise inhaled through her mouth, her lip quivering ever so slightly. “‘Dear Alice, for better or for worse, until death do us part. Let death begin.’” She said it in a flat, emotionless tone. When she finished, her body trembled from head to toe.

“Alice? He specifically said ‘Dear Alice’?” Melissa asked.

Elise nodded. She’d put that name behind her, even went so far as to consider her old self as someone who’d died along with Stan. Alice Klaus had been young, naive and stupid. Elise Johnson was savvy, aware and would never harbor a killer in her home. Ever.

“Have you or the boys told anyone your former names?”

“No. The two years we spent in Minneapolis gave us time to adjust to the new names. When we moved here, we started our new lives. No one knows who we are.”

Melissa snorted. “Someone does.”

“Question is who?” Paul held the evidence bag up. “Who would write a note like that and for what purpose?”

“Could be just a scare tactic.” Melissa shrugged. “Who have you made mad since you moved here?”

Scratching through her recent memories, Elise could think of only a couple people she’d angered. “One of my students’ parents, or maybe a student?”

Paul glanced up, his blond brows rising on his tanned forehead. “A student?”

“I have a bully and a talker. I sent the talker to detention for two days straight. Her mother read me the riot act, claiming I was denying her daughter an education, although she gets the same work at the detention center as in the classroom. In fact, she gets more. The only thing she doesn’t get is cheer practice and she’s benched for the next game.”

“Do you think that student could be using your past against you?” Paul asked.

“Ashley?” Elise shook her head. “She’s more interested in her next boyfriend than exacting revenge on a teacher.”

Melissa’s mouth thinned. “You’d be surprised what kids can do.”

Elise pressed her fingers to her temples where a dull ache grew into a steady pounding. “I’d be more afraid of her mother than Ashley. Gerri Finch is a nightmare in heels. Your basic overachieving stage mother.”

Melissa stared across the evidence to Paul. “Wouldn’t hurt to question her.”

“Does that mean you’re taking the case? Or should I have turned this in to the police?”

“Technically, we don’t have a case,” Melissa said. “No one’s been hurt.”

“Yet. That’s the whole idea. I don’t want anyone else hurt by my husband or whoever sent this. I don’t want to be responsible for any more murders.”

Paul lifted one of Elise’s hands. “Elise, your husband murdered those women, not you.”

She pulled her hand from Paul’s grasp, wanting the comfort, but feeling unworthy of it. “I should have seen through those late-night service calls.” She threw her arms in the air. “At the very least, I should have suspected something. Good God, I lived with the man.” The manipulative, verbally abusive, domineering son of a—

“You weren’t the only one who trusted him. He had an entire community snowed.” Melissa moved up beside Paul. “In most cases involving serial killers, the people closest to them never saw it coming.”

Elise rolled her eyes, a shaky laugh erupting from her throat. “Oh, that makes me feel so much better about the women my husband killed.”

“I know it’s not much. But it took us a while to figure him out, as well.” Melissa gave her a crooked smile. “Hell, we were almost too late to save your sis—”

“Mel, let me handle this,” Paul said.

Melissa’s face turned pink and she backed away. “Yeah, maybe you should.”

Elise felt sorry for Melissa having to walk on eggshells around her. Elise didn’t need people feeling sorry for her any more than she wanted their blame for the deaths. After two years, she’d managed to start over and put the horror behind her, only for it to resurface and slap her squarely in the face. Would she ever be free of Stan Klaus?

“Elise.” Paul was talking to her. “For now, we’re going to do some checking without opening a case. The local police would be handling this one if we were to turn it in, which we might do soon if we need their help.”

“I’d rather the locals didn’t know any more than they have to. We have to live here. I can’t keep uprooting my children and moving every time someone recognizes me.”

“Or threatens you and your children?”

Her blood ran cold. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “If my husband is still alive, he’ll come after his sons. I won’t let him have them. I swear I’ll kill the monster first.”

PAUL AND MELISSA RODE BACK to San Antonio in silence. Paul immersed in his memories of North Dakota and the first contact he’d had with Alice Klaus. He remembered thinking how unfair life was to dump this horrific burden on such a nice woman and her kids. He’d gone to the evacuation shelter and played with Brandon and Luke to help her out and give her a break while her hometown flooded and her life fell apart.

She’d been strong then, but now he recognized her behavior as that of a person in shock and denial. The Texas sunshine had done her good, tanning her pale northern skin. She was too young to be widowed and too pretty to live alone. Elise Johnson needed a man around to run interference for her and provide some kind of protection. Either that or a gun.

The sound of little boys shouting in the backyard had grounded Paul in Elise’s reality. A gun in the house wasn’t a good idea, either. Not with curious boys on the loose.

Stan had set fire to the house he supposedly died in. When Paul, Melissa, Nick and Brenna left the house, the river had already flooded the road and the house was a raging inferno. By the time they were able to return, the house had been swept away in the floodwaters. Stan’s vehicle had been found along the banks of the Red River, five miles south of Riverton. Empty.

Had Stan Klaus survived? If so, why had he showed up now? Why not sooner?

Paul turned to Melissa. “Until we get something solid to go on, I want this case kept between you and me.”

“You’re the boss.” Melissa gave him a mock salute. “It really is hard calling you boss.”

“You didn’t have to take this assignment, you know. And if you recall, I tried to talk you out of it.”

“And miss my one and only opportunity to transfer to Texas?” She gunned the accelerator of her cherry-red F150 four-wheel-drive pickup. “I’d take a job with the devil himself just to leave the snow behind.”

AT 7:00 P.M., PAUL ENTERED the Bureau building in San Antonio and headed for his office, Melissa close on his heels.

As they passed Special Agent Trevor Cain’s desk, the agent looked up from his conversation on the telephone. His eyes widened and he smiled up at them. “Muy bien. Adios,” he said into the receiver and hung up. “Hey, Bradley, Fletch. Where’ve you been?” Cain rose from his desk and followed them down the hall.

“Cain.” Paul acknowledged the man with a nod before he entered his office.

“You’re pulling a late night,” Melissa commented, standing in the doorway. “Still working those applicant background investigations?”

“Yeah.” Trevor moved as if to enter, but Mel wasn’t in a hurry to make way. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb, effectively blocking his entrance.

Thank goodness Mel had decided to transfer to San Antonio with Paul. She understood him, could read him like only a close friend could. Paul smothered a grin.

“Your ability to speak Spanish is a plus around here,” Mel commented.

Paul fought impatience. He was ready for the conversation to end and for Cain to disappear so that he could discuss Elise with Mel.

Cain shrugged, his attention focused on Paul. “It comes in handy.”

“Making any headway?” Paul asked.

“Some. There’s just so many, it doesn’t feel like it. I’d rather sink my teeth into something more interesting.”

“We all do our jobs.” Paul refused to be drawn into another discussion about what FBI agents should be doing. He knew Trevor wanted a case more substantial than applicant background checks, but everyone had to do them. Trevor just needed to do his share.

Cain snorted. “We can’t all get the national headliners like you two, huh?” His tone held more of a bite than just another agent joking with his comrades.

“No, we can’t.” Paul glanced at Melissa. “Could you close my door? I have some calls to make.”

“Will do.” Melissa closed the door, luring Trevor away.

Paul owed her for that one. Trevor might be a good agent, but he was too impatient for the next big case. What he seemed to forget was that when they got a big case, it meant people were being either kidnapped or murdered. While Trevor was looking for a thrill, others were just trying to survive or keep someone else from being hurt.

Trevor had a lot to learn about being a good agent. In his new supervisory role, Paul hoped he’d have the patience to teach the man.

For now, he wanted to fish and see if Elise’s note had more guts behind it than just paper and ink.

His first call was to the Kendall County Sheriff’s Department. Now how did he phrase his question in a manner that wouldn’t raise too much suspicion?

“Kendall County Sheriff’s Department.”

Paul identified himself, stating his position with the FBI in the San Antonio field office.

“What can I help you with, Agent Fletcher?” the woman asked.

“Have there been any missing persons reported in the past forty-eight hours, particularly women?”

After a long pause, the woman spoke. “No, sir. Do you want me to notify you if something should come up in that respect?”

“Yes, please.” He gave her his number, hung up and repeated his query at the sheriff’s office for the next county over and got the same response. So far, so good. Maybe there wasn’t anything to the note after all.

His gut told him differently and his gut was rarely wrong.

A light knock sounded at the door and Melissa stuck her head in. “Mind if I join you?”

“Trevor head home?” he countered.

“No, he’s at his desk, slogging through more background checks.” She chuckled. “He’s not at all happy about it, either.”

“He’ll get over it.” Paul tipped his head to the side. “Come in.”

Melissa entered, sinking into the seat across from Paul’s desk. “What are you going to do about the note?”

“I made a few calls to outlying counties. I haven’t called the Bexar County Sheriff or San Antonio Police Department yet. They’re next on my list.”

“What exactly are you asking them?”

“I’m inquiring about missing persons reported in the past forty-eight hours.” He glanced at Melissa. “You got any other ideas?”

“I’ll run the envelope and letter over to Forensics to see if we can lift any prints.”

“Thanks.”

“What do you think? Is it a real threat or a prank?”

Paul tapped a pencil to his desk blotter. “I don’t know. But I have a bad feeling about it. Elise and her kids are on their own. Vulnerable.”

“Why don’t you assign an agent to them?”

“A note isn’t enough to go on. By rights, it should be a local case, not even in FBI jurisdiction.”

“Unless Stan Klaus really is alive and up to his old tricks again.”

The phone on Paul’s desk rang. “Let’s hope not.”

Paul lifted the receiver. “This is Fletcher.”

“Agent Fletcher, this is Rita at the Kendall County Sheriff’s Office. We just had a woman reported missing. Last seen at ten o’clock last night. Normally a missing-persons report isn’t filed until twenty-four hours after the person has supposedly gone missing, but you wanted to know.”