Читать книгу Protector's Instinct - Janie Crouch - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Zane woke from the nightmare, heart pounding, sweat covering his entire body despite the cool air coming through the screened windows of his bedroom.

He’d dreamed about the night Caroline had been attacked by Paul Trumpold a year and a half ago. It had been a while since he’d dreamed about it. Although it was no surprise that he’d had it again after what had happened in the parking lot of the Silver Eagle two nights ago.

He probably would’ve had the dream last night if he’d slept a wink.

The dream—really more of a memory—always started the same way: Zane sitting at his desk at the CCPD headquarters, even though it was late at night, doing some work, avoiding doing what he really wanted to do, which was accept Caroline’s invitation to go over to her house when he got off work. He hadn’t wanted to give her the upper hand in their relationship. Wanted to keep her a little off balance like she so often kept him. Wanted to let her know, for once, what it felt like to wonder what would happen next. She did it to him without even thinking. He wanted her to know—wanted himself to know—that he could do it to her.

It all seemed so ridiculous now.

The uniformed cop—a young kid, Zane couldn’t even remember his name—who’d wanted to give Zane a heads-up before he got the official call had run up to Zane’s desk, knowing Zane was lead detective in the case. The cop had been out of breath when he told Zane the serial rapist had struck again.

Zane always remembered that moment in his dream and in his life. Because that had been the last time he’d ever been okay. The last time his world had been whole.

He’d been pissed that the rapist had struck again before they could catch him, but his world had still had a foundation.

He could never stop the next moment in his dream any more than he could in real life: when the cop gave him the address of the rapist’s latest victim.

Caroline’s address.

He’d written down the first two numbers as the cop had said it out loud before he’d realized where it was, then had dropped everything and run as fast as he could to his car, driving way past the limitations of safety to get to Caroline’s house.

Praying the entire time that there had been some mistake. That the address was wrong. That the kid cop, in all his excitement to be helpful, had gotten the numbers wrong or something.

The numbers hadn’t been wrong.

The ambulance at Caroline’s house had thrown him. He’d seen an ambulance there before, one Caroline had driven. Hell, she’d even driven an ambulance to his house to meet him for a quickie once.

But she hadn’t driven this one. This time the ambulance had been for her.

The dream sometimes changed from there. He always had to cross her yard to get to the door of her house. Sometimes as he ran across the yard in his dream the ground swallowed him like quicksand, slowing him from reaching the door. Sometimes there were thousands of people all over the yard and he couldn’t get through no matter how hard he tried.

Sometimes he ran as fast as he could, but the door kept getting farther and farther away.

But no matter what happened, the rapist—Dr. Trumpold—always just stood there laughing at Zane. And when Zane would finally fight his way to the door, the man would turn and whisper, “You know why she opened the door for me? Because she thought it was you knocking. Thanks for the help.” Then he would disappear.

And in his place would be Caroline. Lying on the floor of her own foyer, beaten until she was unconscious. Clothes ripped off her small body. Being treated by her own EMT colleagues, handling her with care even though she was long past feeling any pain at that point.

Zane had just stared, watching his entire world lying broken at his feet. He hadn’t been able to move, hadn’t been able to say a thing, even if there had been something that could’ve been said or done.

In real life Zane had ridden in the ambulance with Caroline, had stayed by her side in the hospital until she’d finally woken up forty-eight hours later and helped them catch the rapist.

But in his dream he was always stuck there in the doorway of her house, looking down at Caroline’s broken, battered body. Knowing she would never be okay again, that they would never be okay again.

And in the worst of the nightmares she would open her eyes from where she lay on the floor—although he knew that would’ve been impossible, since the blows from the rapist had caused both her eyes to be swollen completely shut—and echo her rapist’s earlier comment, in an oddly conversational voice.

Where were you, Zane? I thought it was you knocking at the door.

And he would never have an answer.

He got out of bed now, knowing he wouldn’t get any more sleep. Hell, he’d be lucky if he got any sleep any night this week after what had happened in the parking lot of the Silver Eagle.

He’d flown at least one flight each of the last fifteen days straight, so he should be glad he had nothing scheduled for today, but now he wished he could get back up in the air. After the nightmare, today wasn’t a good day to be grounded. Zane wanted to be up in his Cessna.

Flying had been the only thing that had come even a little close to filling the hole in his life since he left the department. Like Captain Harris suggested, flying wasn’t enough to completely eliminate the void, but it at least did something.

Zane wished he had another organ donor trip. That had been exciting. The deadline, the pressure, knowing someone was counting on you to get the job done.

That had been what his life had been like every day when he’d been a detective on the force.

Life when he’d had Caroline in it.

That wasn’t any easier to think about than not being on the force any longer. Especially after what had happened in the Silver Eagle parking lot.

What in heaven’s name had come over him? How could he have possibly treated Caroline like that?

They’d been fighting just like old times. Yelling at each other.

Then she’d poked him in the chest with that tiny finger of hers, just like she had so many times in the past. And in the past it had almost always ended with them on top of each other.

He had moved out of muscle memory more than anything else. Covered her finger with his hand like he had so many times before, moving in for a kiss.

Basic instinct, a primal need for Caroline, had taken over from there. He’d been so caught up in the kiss, knew she had been too. Had felt her hands in his hair, felt her legs pull him closer when he’d set her up on the hood of her truck. It had been so long; they’d been desperate for each other.

But then she’d told him to stop and his first instinct, the only one he’d been able to hear at all, had been to keep kissing her. Keep kissing that throat. That neck. Those lips.

Then when she should’ve slapped him, she’d simply tugged at his hair and told him to stop again.

And finally reason had returned.

He scrubbed a hand over his face now, despair tugging at him. He’d been holding her in place, unwilling to let her go.

Caroline, a rape victim.

He had to give her credit; she hadn’t seemed panicked. She hadn’t cried or punched him or run screaming back into the Silver Eagle. When he’d jumped back, she’d started to say something to him.

He could think of a number of things she’d had a right to say to him. And none of them were pretty. So when Wade had yelled whatever he had to say—Zane totally hadn’t been listening—he’d gotten away from Caroline.

Because once again, as had been true for the past eighteen months, the greatest thing Zane could do for Caroline was to keep away from her. He’d made as quick an exit as he could manage.

She’d be in the middle of Big Bend State Park now, on her hike. He still didn’t like it. But she’d been right in one argument: what say did he have in her life?

None. Which was the best possible thing for her.

But the thought of her hiking alone still stuck in his craw. Maybe if he had kept his temper, used reason to discuss it with Caroline, he could’ve changed her mind.

But who was he kidding? Reason had never had anything to do with their relationship. Passion, fighting, yelling, heat. All those had. But never reason.

She’d driven him crazy from the moment they’d met in high school when her family relocated from Dallas. In both the best and worst of ways.

God, how he’d missed her the last year and a half. Missed the woman who had always stood toe-to-toe with him and refused to back down.

But now all he could picture was her broken body lying in the hospital bed eighteen months ago. Crying when she didn’t know he could see her.

She’d never be able to go toe-to-toe with anyone again.

Not that Zane hadn’t been willing to change everything about their relationship to fit her needs. Over those first few months, he’d tried. Went out of his way to be gentle, easy, light with Caroline. It had been weird, so different than what had always transpired between them. But for Caroline he’d been willing to do it. To do anything.

But it had all just seemed to make her upset. Sad, even.

Every time he’d let her win an argument, every time she’d poked him in the chest with that little finger and he’d just pulled her in for a hug, it had just made her more sad.

Finally, Zane realized that being around him at all made her sad. So he’d given her the only thing he’d had left to give: his absence. He’d quit the department, moved to the outskirts of town, made it so they never ran into each other.

And it had absolutely gutted him. His entire life became empty.

But for his Caro he’d been willing to pay that price.

And after his behavior two nights ago, obviously he needed to continue keeping himself away from her. The thought that he could’ve hurt her, scared her, brought back memories of her attack ripped a hole in him.

He started the day doing paperwork—owning your own charter flight company was perhaps the only business in the world that created more paperwork than law enforcement—but soon found he needed the release of some sort of physical activity. He decided yard work was in order. If his mother came by and saw the bushes and grass looking the way they did now, he would never hear the end of it.

And at least the hard, physical work of cutting and trimming allowed him to force the thoughts of kissing a stunning brunette—and how very good it had been before turning so bad—to the back of his mind.

He was going to have to see her in a couple of weeks from now for Jon Hatton and Sherry Mitchell’s wedding in Colorado, since Caroline was one of Sherry’s best friends and in the wedding. But Zane would be damn sure to keep his distance.

He’d kept his distance for nearly two years. He’d keep on doing it now.

When his phone rang, Zane wiped the sweat from his head before removing his glove and grabbing the device. Speak of the devil; it was Jon Hatton.

Zane hit the receive button. “Hey, Jon, I was just thinking about you.”

There was a short pause. “Well, I hope you weren’t in the shower, because that would be weird.”

Zane laughed. “No, just tackling some yard work that has been a particular pain in the ass.”

Zane had met the Omega Sector agent here in Corpus Christi when the local police had needed help with the serial rapist case. He and Jon had solved the case, but too late for Caroline.

Jon had tried multiple times to get Zane back into law enforcement since Zane had quit, even talking to him about working for Omega Sector, but Zane hadn’t budged. Although he had helped Jon with a couple of cases that had brought the man back to Texas.

“If you’re calling to get me to help you pick out china patterns, I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline.”

“As scary as that thought is, no, I’m not calling with anything about the wedding. We’ve got a problem, Zane.”

Zane knew the other man well enough to know that if Jon was calling him with “a problem” it was something serious.

“What’s going on?”

“Can you get to your email right now?” Jon asked.

“Let me go inside.” Zane grabbed the nearest dish towel from the kitchen and wiped as much sweat and dirt off his face and arms as he could before heading into his office.

“All right, I’m at my computer.”

“I’m sending a picture of a Damien Freihof.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“He went to jail five years ago because he was about to blow up a bank full of people in Phoenix.”

“Okay.” Zane had no idea what this had to do with him.

“He escaped last year. Nearly killed Brandon Han and his fiancée, Andrea.”

Zane knew Brandon; the man had helped figure out who the rapist was. But he didn’t know about this Freihof guy or that he almost killed Brandon.

“That time—” it would’ve been right after Caroline’s rape “—it’s pretty fuzzy for me, Jon.”

“Sure, man, I understand and don’t expect you to know any of this.”

“Okay.”

“Freihof went to ground after he attacked Brandon and Andrea. He was injured in his own explosion. He resurfaced last week.”

Zane still had no idea what this had to do with him. “Okay.”

“I just sent you a picture of him.”

Zane opened his email. “Okay, I got it.” He studied the mug shot of Damien Freihof from five years ago. “I don’t recognize him at all.”

“I’m sending you another picture.”

The second picture was a totally different man, roughly the same height and build but different jaw, eyes, hair.

“Okay, who’s that?”

“That is also Damien Freihof.”

“Damn.” Zane whistled through his teeth. “He’s good.”

“Yeah, he is.” Jon’s tone held grudging respect. “Good enough to beat all our facial scanning software and to avoid the statewide warrant for his arrest.”

“Do you think he’s moved on to Texas?” If he had, it wasn’t like Zane could do anything about it.

“Two days ago, Freihof masterminded a pretty elaborate plan. A bomb that killed one of our junior agents and put another agent in a coma. Looks like Freihof wants to make Omega Sector pay for putting him in prison. Plus, he nearly killed a mother and her toddler daughter in the process.”

Zane’s expletive wasn’t pretty. “Sounds like this bastard doesn’t care about collateral damage.”

“Exactly. He wants as much collateral damage as possible. We’ve already been given that message. He’s coming after people with ties to Omega. He’s trying to hurt civilians we care about in order to split Omega’s focus. I’m sending you one more picture.”

The picture Zane received was of some sort of wall with a staggering amount of information on it: newspaper clippings, photos, drawings, police reports, Google search printouts, fingerprints.

“What the hell is that?” Zane couldn’t make any sense of it at all.

“That’s the wall of clues Freihof left for us. A very complicated puzzle that points out Freihof’s next intended victims.”

“How the hell were you able to make any sense of it?”

“It took us a long time, believe me.” Jon paused for a second. “It looks like you and Caroline are on his intended victims’ list, Zane.”

“What?”

“There were very specific clues referring to you by name on the wall of clues. We think he might be coming after you soon, if he’s not there already.”

Zane’s expletive this time was even uglier. “Caroline’s off on her own.”

“What?”

“She’s on some damfool hiking trip in Big Bend State Park. Alone. Do you think this Freihof character might be aware of this?”

“Honestly, Jon, the man is a genius. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Jon. I’ve got to go. I’ll keep you posted.” Zane disconnected the call and was running for his bedroom, grabbing his go-bag. He would call Captain Harris on the way to the airport and get him to contact the park rangers at Big Bend and find out Caroline’s exact GPS location.

He would file his flight plan and be in the air in less than an hour. He’d be with Caroline in under two. A madman genius had gotten to her once. There was no way in hell he was letting another.

So much for keeping his distance.