Читать книгу The Man from Gossamer Ridge - Пола Грейвс - Страница 11

Alicia watched Gabe Cooper’s expression go from puzzled to furious in the span of a second. His gaze whipped up to snare her own, snapping with anger so intense her stomach knotted.

“Did you put this idea in her head?” he asked.

Cissy tugged at his arm. “Alicia can’t make me believe something if I don’t think it’s true. I’m the one who raised the subject with her, not the other way around.”

Gabe turned to his niece, his brow furrowing. “Why? You heard everything Mariah and Jake told us about Logan. You know about the scrapbook—”

“Nobody’s ever tracked down the other guy,” Cissy pointed out. Alicia knew she was referring to a second man the police were looking for in connection to Victor Logan’s death. Cissy had filled her in on everything the Cooper family knew about Logan and the events of the previous month, when Logan had taken Cissy’s Uncle Jake and his wife Mariah captive.

“Jake’s certain the other guy wouldn’t have been more than a teenager when your mother was murdered,” Gabe said, gently stroking his niece’s arm. “I know it doesn’t feel like closure. We never got to face Victor Logan and make him admit what he did, but grasping at straws—”

“They may not be straws,” Alicia interjected.

Gabe’s head snapped toward her. “What is your deal? You’re so desperate for a thesis topic that you’d mess with a young girl’s mind about her mother’s murder?”

“Damn it!” Cissy pulled away from her uncle. “I’m not a baby and Alicia’s not messing with my head. Do you have any idea how insulting you’re being right now?”

Gabe’s expression fell, and he raked his hand through his dark hair, turning away. “I’m sorry.”

Alicia crossed to Cissy’s side, offering a united front. “Cissy had questions about her mother’s murder before she ever stepped foot in my lab. When she found out I was doing my doctoral thesis on a series of unsolved serial murders in the Gulf states, she asked my opinion about her mother’s case.”

The hard muscles of Gabe’s jaws tensed. “My brother and I have both spent the last twelve years looking into every lead that emerged, most of which fell apart. We know a viable suspect when we see one. Victor Logan had the means to do it and the opportunity. And based on his issues with women, we’re confident we have a good idea what motivated him—”

“Why you?” Alicia interrupted, struck by something he’d said a moment earlier. “I mean, I get why Cissy’s father would have devoted his life to finding an answer, but why you?”

Gabe glanced at his niece before answering. “I’m the one who found her body.”

Alicia glanced at Cissy, whose expression was solemn and tinged with sympathy as she gazed up at her uncle. If she found the answer as incomplete as Alicia did, she gave no sign of it.

“I see,” she said, although she didn’t really. Finding the body might have given Gabe a bigger stake in learning what happened to Cissy’s mother, but not enough to spend twelve years following leads long after the case had grown stone-cold.

“I appreciate that you have a paper to write. And I get that having Cissy here is like a case study practically falling into your lap. But all the authorities who’ve ever looked into Brenda’s murder are convinced that Victor Logan is the guy.”

“He’s one of them,” Alicia agreed.

Gabe’s brow furrowed. “One of them?”

“I’ve managed to get my hands on the bulk of the police reports dealing with Victor Logan’s actions from this past April as well as your sister-in-law’s statements about his actions four years ago, when he killed her son’s father.” She felt a ripple of guilt at the look of dismay in Gabe’s eyes, as if he saw her actions as intrusive and presumptuous.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn’t her place. But if her theory was correct, then the nightmare wasn’t over.

More women were going to die.

“Uncle Gabe, please listen to her.” Cissy put her hand on her uncle’s arm. “I didn’t want to believe it, either. I was hoping Alicia would tell me I was imagining things.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed as he looked from Cissy to Alicia. “I take it you didn’t?”

“Why don’t we sit?” Alicia motioned toward the sofa.

Gabe frowned but sat. Cissy dropped onto the sofa next to him, leaving Alicia to take the ottoman again. She cleared her throat and leaned forward to pick up the folder Gabe had set down just before Cissy arrived.

“Cissy’s been taking criminology courses since last year,” Alicia began, straightening the contents of the file to give her twitchy hands something to do. “One of her courses was Basic Criminal Profiling.”

“I profiled Mom’s murderer as one of my assignments,” Cissy added quietly. “Got an A.”

“I’m sure you probably know that profiling is more an art than a science,” Alicia continued, trying not to react to the raw intensity of Gabe’s gaze, part of her wondering what it would feel like to experience that sort of no-holds-barred focus under more intimate circumstances.

“Understatement,” he murmured.

She slanted a look at him. “Legwork solves more cases. I don’t dispute that.”

“The evidence against Logan was damning,” he said simply. “Why keep asking a question that’s already been answered?”

“Because the one person we can prove Victor killed was a man. A man against whom he had a personal grudge. I read the statements your brother and sister-in-law gave last month after their ordeal with Logan. He used a gun to subdue them, and even then, he wasn’t very good at using it. He’s not the person who shot the game warden—that was the other man.”

“Uncle Gabe, nothing fits, don’t you see?” Cissy turned to Gabe, her expression animated. Alicia watched her warily, aware that the younger woman’s personal stakes in the case put her at risk of getting too wrapped up in the outcome of Alicia’s project. She had to be careful with Cissy, not let her get any more involved than she was already.

Gabe pressed his lips together in consternation. He looked across at Alicia. “How did you get all this material?”

Alicia looked down at her hands, a little embarrassed. “I used to date one of the local cops. He still does favors for me now and then. He talked his bosses into letting me look into some cold cases that might be connected to the other murders.”

“And you sweet-talked them into letting you request records from other law enforcement agencies, right?”

Alicia almost laughed aloud. Sweet talk wasn’t one of her strong suits. Bulldozer was a better description. “Something like that. I used Cissy’s profile, tweaked it with my own observations and put out feelers to other departments to see if they had any cases that fit the profile.”

“What did you find?”

Alicia couldn’t tell if he was interested or just humoring his niece. Either way, it might be her only chance to convince him to listen. She dug through the file for the timeline she’d worked out, speaking as she searched. “I found fifteen murders that I think are connected.”

“That many?” He sounded surprised.

“I’m not sure there aren’t more,” she admitted, finally finding the paper she was looking for. She pulled it from the file and laid it on the table in front of her.

Gabe eyed the paper warily, as if it were about to morph into a cobra or something. Alicia darted a look at Cissy, who returned her gaze with an apologetic shrug.

“I need food,” Gabe said.

Alicia blinked, caught off balance. “I could make something—”

“No, I think I’ll take my niece out to dinner.” Gabe stood, looking down at Cissy.

“Uncle Gabe—”

“I’m not shutting down the conversation,” he said. “Just tabling it until I’ve eaten.”

Cissy stood, lifting her chin. “Alicia, would you like to join us?”

Gabe’s expression was neutral, but Alicia saw the irritation in his blue eyes. She shook her head. “No, not tonight. I’ve got a lot of work to sort through. You two go have fun. We can talk tomorrow.”

Cissy’s lips tightened to a thin line and Alicia could see the family resemblance between her and her uncle. But she didn’t argue, following Gabe to the front door.

“I’ll call you if we don’t get back too late,” Cissy told Alicia firmly. “This isn’t over.”

Alicia closed the door behind them, locking up. She remained by the door a moment, surprised by how empty and large the apartment seemed now that her visitors had left.

Gabe Cooper sure knew how to fill a room with his presence.

She crossed to the sofa and plopped down in the space Gabe had just vacated. The cushion was still warm, and maybe she was just imagining it, but she thought she detected a whiff of testosterone lingering in the air.

She laughed aloud, the sound echoing in the silent apartment. Man, she needed to get out more.

Her laughter faltered a few seconds later, when she heard a furtive scrape coming from the porch outside.

Instantly tense, she grabbed her discarded jacket from the coat tree by the door and pulled the vial of pepper spray from the pocket. It seemed grossly inadequate, but her aluminum bat was in the bedroom, too far away.

There was a window by the front door, which would give her a clear view of the porch, but she couldn’t talk herself into moving the curtains aside and taking a look. She settled for the peephole in the door and its fish-eyed view. She saw no sign of movement outside.

And yet, she heard another set of creaking noises, as if someone was walking around on the wooden porch outside.

Stop it, she told herself, backing away from the door. This isn’t some isolated warehouse and you’re not really alone.

But she held on to the pepper spray anyway.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW RUDE you were.” Cissy kept her voice low, glancing around the restaurant as if she thought her half-whispered rebuke might cause a scene.

Gabe felt a hint of guilt, but it was eclipsed by annoyance at his niece and, more to the point, the pretty little egghead who’d stirred up Cissy’s emotions about her mother’s murder. “I prefer to call it direct,” he answered tightly.

“Call it whatever you want. It was still uncalled for.”

“Know what else is uncalled for? Dragging someone across the state on false pretenses.” Gabe gave Cissy a pointed look.

“They weren’t false. They were…incomplete.”

Gabe fiddled with the salad fork lying beside his water glass. “Victor Logan killed your mother.” Even as he spoke the words aloud, doubt nagged at him, making the back of his neck prickle with unease.

“You don’t sound as convinced here as you did back at Alicia’s place,” Cissy murmured.

“You haven’t mentioned any of this to your dad, have you?”

Cissy looked horrified. “No! I’m not going to him with anything less than hard evidence. He’s been through enough pain over the years trying to find Mom’s killer.”

“So you called me instead.” Not that Cissy could understand just how hard the roller coaster of false leads and dashed hopes had been on him, too. She didn’t know just how intimately he was involved in the disaster of that night, how much blame he had earned with his selfish thoughtlessness.

“You’ve been there for my brother and me, as much as anyone. I knew you’d come if I called.” Cissy looked across the table at him, her expression softening. “I trust your judgment about this particular topic.”

“Except when I disagree with your theories,” he added with an indulgent smile.

She grinned. “Exactly.”

The waitress arrived to take their orders. Cissy had chosen one of the higher-end restaurants in town, although in a place like Millbridge, Alabama, high-end was relative. A snowy linen tablecloth covered the small window-side table where they sat, their seats overlooking a moonlit garden partially obscured by their reflection bouncing back at them on the picture window. The flatware was stainless steel, but clean and shiny, free of nicks and stains.

At least the menu was unpretentious. Home cooking, plenty of options. Gabe selected a steak and vegetable plate, though he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry at the moment, thanks to Cissy’s ambush.

Cissy ordered cheese fries.

“As the apparent stand-in for your father, I have to tell you that cheese fries are almost completely lacking in nutritional value,” he said after the waitress departed.

“Cheese has protein,” she defended. “Besides, I’m feeling strangely in need of comfort food.”

Reaching across the table, he patted her hand. “That’s my fault, isn’t it?”

Her brow wrinkled. “Not everything’s your fault, you know.”

But it was, he thought. More than she realized. “You want to go back there tonight?” he asked. “Finish what we started?”

“Yes,” she answered simply.

“What do you know about this Alicia person, anyway? What’s her deal?”

Cissy gave him an odd look. “Her deal?”

“What made her decide to look into cold cases in the first place?”

“I don’t know, exactly. She was already working on her thesis when I took my first lab with her.”

“What kind of labs does she teach?” When Gabe had been in school, the labs he’d attended were usually limited to either the hard sciences or language classes. Of course, he had pretty much avoided the social sciences like the plague. His major had been marine biology, with a focus on freshwater ecosystems. Gave him a head start on figuring out where to find the bass when he was fishing a tournament.

“She’s helping the head of the psychology department develop research labs for criminal investigations. For instance, she and another grad student, Marlon, are spending a lot of their time working up a set of protocols to quantify the likelihood of a violence-prone individual to escalate to sadistic murder.”

Gabe grimaced. “Tell me you’re not helping with that one.”

“I’m not. You have to be a senior or a grad student to participate.” The waitress arrived with Cissy’s cheese fries, assuring Gabe his steak was on the way. Gabe took notice of her this time. She was tall, on the curvy side, with a wide, smiling mouth and eyes the color of dark chocolate. She didn’t look like Brenda, but there was something about her that reminded Gabe of his sister-in-law.

What little appetite he’d had fled.

“What’s the matter?” Cissy asked after the waitress left.

“Nothing.”

Cissy followed his gaze as he tracked the waitress’ departure. “She’s pretty. A little old for you, though. And I think she was wearing a wedding ring—”

Gabe looked across the table at his niece. “She reminded me of someone.”

“Mom?”

“A little,” he admitted.

“Not that much. She’s just on your mind. She’s on mine, too.” Cissy picked at the plate of cheese fries in front of her, swirling one thin strip of potato in the gooey sauce. “Some days, I barely remember her, and others, it’s like I’m right there, curled up in my bed, listening to her read me a story.” A hint of a smile curved her pink lips. “Our favorite was Sam, Bangs and Moonshine. So mysterious and adventurous. A good lesson about the consequences of lies, too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. You shouldn’t have had to go through life without your mama.” I shouldn’t have let it happen, he added silently.

Cissy pushed her plate of cheese fries across the table, an unconscious echo of her mother’s habit of offering comfort through the distraction of food. In a family that included five active males under the age of thirty at the time, it had often proved a successful ploy. “I know this may seem like a long shot to you—”

“I just don’t know if your father can bear another let-down.” Gabe gently pushed the plate back toward her. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You may have to.” Cissy met his gaze directly, her expression deadly serious. Gabe realized, in that instant, that his little niece had grown up without his realizing it. How had that happened?

“Why’s that?” he asked aloud.

Cissy leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Because the murders are still happening.”

THE MOON EMERGED FROM BEHIND a wispy cloud, casting a pale blue glow across the front lawn of the Bellewood Manor Apartments. The real estate website was right—it did look like history come to life. He could almost imagine a parade of silly Southern belles strolling along the length of the porch, flirting and flitting and behaving generally like the weak little sheep they were.

He was safely across the street now, hidden by the limber fronds of a willow tree. He’d taken a chance earlier, walking right up to her front door. He’d been careful to stay out of range of the security peephole, though she would have seen him easily enough had she looked out the window.

But she wouldn’t look. For all her hardheaded determination to solve the mystery she’d uncovered, Alicia Solano was scared. Scared she fit the victim profile.

Scared she would be next.

Well, she did fit the profile. She was a curvy brunette with a strong, independent streak just screaming for a take down. Hell, sometimes, he wanted to do it himself.

But that wasn’t his job. He was the scout, not the hunter. That was Alex’s job.

And Alex didn’t take foolish chances.

Alicia wouldn’t be the next victim. Not here, surrounded by people who could hear or see something and share it with the cops. The next victim worked at a convenience store on Route 7, a cashier who could go a whole six-hour evening shift without seeing a soul now that the bypass to the interstate was completed, diverting traffic away from the dying store.

She would close up at eleven, no doubt relieved to be done with the mind-numbing shift. Her only thought would be of heading home, her mind already full of the things she had to do before she could finally go to bed and get a well-earned night of sleep before dragging herself to her first morning class.

Useless ponderings, of course. She’d never make it to bed.

She’d never even make it out of the store.

By midnight, she’d be dead.