Part 21 (1/2)

Don't think of it as a betrayal of Sweetie. He made his way to the cellar swiftly. It had nothing to do with his lover. Everything to do with a dark and insidious need that had begun growing with the first victim that had been brought to him.

His feet found their way swiftly, surely to the locked cabinet in the corner of his drawing room. Another key to open that. Then that lovely catch of breath as the door swung open. That giddy sense of antic.i.p.ation as he looked at the rows of gleaming skulls lining the shelves.

So much care had been taken in their restoration. Jaws wired together. Teeth glued back in. Eye sockets drilled out. It was perfectly natural to feel . . . a bit possessive after putting all that effort into the process.

Unerringly his hands went to the skull on the second shelf, right in the middle. He'd be lying if he said he didn't have a favorite. Sydney Schaefer. She'd been everything he could have wanted in a houseguest. Quiet and una.s.suming. And she'd pled so prettily at the end.

He set the skull and cloth on the desk. Undid his pants and covered himself with the soft cloth before inserting himself into the eye cavity. And gave a low moan. He held the cranium steady in both hands as he began to thrust.

Forget the fight that had been so upsetting. Forget the doubts. The worries about the next disposal site. This made it all worthwhile.

And when he came, it was Sweetie's name on his lips.

It was after midnight before the lone figure exited the morgue and headed to her rented SUV parked under the security light. Zach noted the exact moment Cait caught sight of him sitting on the hood of her vehicle. Saw the tension shoot into her muscles. And then watched her body ease again when she recognized him.

”You lost?” she asked when she got close enough.

”I was at the store cleaning gear. Figured you were still here. And that you hadn't eaten.” He held out a clear plastic bag with a six-inch sub in it.

”You figured right.” She took the bag and joined him on top of the hood. Withdrew the sandwich and unwrapped it. ”Interesting choice of locations for a picnic.”

He chewed and swallowed the bite of steak and cheese sub before responding. ”I knew a nicer spot. Surrounded by nature. Private. Unspoiled. They pulled a bunch of human bones out of it this afternoon.”

”Good point.” He saw her expression lighten when she discovered he'd brought her an oven-roasted chicken breast. He'd paid attention. ”No chips?”

Handing her a napkin, he said, ”You don't eat chips.”

”I don't?” She bit into the sub hungrily.

”Not that I've noticed. You can have half my big cookie, though. They only had one chocolate chocolate-chip left. A more chivalrous man would give you the whole thing, but . . . I'm not that man. I take cookies very seriously.”

Her lips curved, and there was a shrewdness in her gaze that he immediately distrusted. ”You're not that man. But you brought me a sandwich because you thought I hadn't eaten.”

He shrugged, discomfited. ”I was hungry. Thought you might be, too. You need to keep your strength up. Leaping tall buildings with a single bound has got to take energy.”

”You're a nice guy, Sharper. This is going to wreak havoc with your go-to-h.e.l.l image, but deep down, you're a nice guy.”

”Yeah, well . . .” He moved his shoulders, oddly ill at ease with the turn of conversation. ”Don't let it get around. I actually only worry about feeding whisper-thin ex-models turned scientists who look like a good wind could blow them over. And only then on the fourth Friday of the month after they've hauled old bones out a hot springs.”

”Very specific conditions.”

”I'm no pushover.”

”No one would ever claim you were.” She surprised him then by lying back on the hood, staring up at the sooty fingers of clouds that would hide the stars even if they decided to make an entrance. ”There was a breakthrough today. I can't tell you more than that, but . . . we've got a lead. It's solid.”

He paused in midbite. Cait was usually so guarded that what he knew about the case came from what he could piece together from eavesdropping on her phone conversations or from news reports. That she shared even this much with him touched him somehow. More than it should have.

”I wouldn't have thought soggy bones would have told you much.”

”We'll have to see what they tell me after they dry out.” She turned her head and looked at him from her p.r.o.ne position. ”Andrews said the women on your tour found them.”

”Yeah.” He blew out a sigh, recalling the scene. ”They figured, h.e.l.l they were in wet suits anyway, why not test the water. Dumb idea. They would have roasted in those suits if they sat in the springs for any length of time. But they all got in, a bit of a tight squeeze. One of them stepped on the bag. The rest is history.”

”A piece of history none of them will forget any time soon.”

”Whoever those bones belong to deserves to be remembered. If for no other reason, that makes me glad the women found them. No family should have to wonder what happened to their loved one.” At least when his mother had died that night in the hospital, he'd known it. There was no wondering if she'd walk through the door someday and take him home. Away from Jarrett's addictions, his erratic behavior and random mood swings. At seven he'd realized that there was no going back for him. And though brutal, that had been better than living with false hope.

”I agree. I want to get IDs on every set of remains before I'm done with this case. I don't know if it'll be possible. But that's my goal. It'd be hard to believe justice was done until we have names to go with the bones.”

He wondered how she was going to manage that but figured she couldn't tell him so he didn't ask. But he thought of her now, bringing closure of sorts to the families who'd lost the people belonging to those bones. And thought they were lucky to have her standing for their loved ones.

”Justice can sometimes be in the eye of the beholder and slippery to navigate.” When she remained silent, watching him expectantly, he surprised himself by going on. ”My grandfather probably thought his will delivered the most fitting justice to my father by not leaving him a dime. The resort that used to be on the land he left me? Teddy Roosevelt once stayed there, or so I'm told. Local legend had it that the place was haunted. The place burned to the ground when I was three. Although it was ruled accidental, my grandfather let it slip once that Jarrett had done it. Probably high at the time, and wanted to rid it of ghosts.” The corner of his mouth lifted. ”My grandfather wasn't the forgiving sort.”

Especially when the old man had tried one thing after another to make his son grow up and act like a man. Zach himself had been a tool in that attempt. When his grandfather had gotten proof of Jarrett's paternity, it was he who had forced Zach's father to do his duty. Probably had hoped the act would make Jarrett shoulder some responsibility for the first time in his life. It hadn't turned out that way.

”My father contested the will of course. The old man had made sure it was ironclad, but I could have worked a deal. Could have given him at least part of what he thought was his share.”

”But you didn't.”

”It would have been a betrayal of my grandfather's last wishes. One more reward for my father that he didn't deserve, didn't work for. Wouldn't appreciate.” Most of the time he knew he'd done the right thing. But doubts were sneaky little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds that often preyed on nights when sleep was elusive and memories took hold.

Shaking off the moroseness that threatened at the thought, he finished the rest of his sandwich in silence before lying back on the hood next to her, one knee raised. He turned his head to study her. The dim light of the street lamp silhouetted her exquisite profile. And he surprised himself by asking the question that had been bothering him since they'd first met.

”How'd you get here, Cait?” She faced him, her brow winging upward, and he rephrased. ”Not to Oregon, but to where you are. What you do.”

A corner of her mouth lifted, but he could discern no amus.e.m.e.nt in her expression. ”You mean how did I go from teen model to a forensic anthropologist slash investigative consultant?” Her gaze traveled past him, and the shadows in her eyes had nothing to do with the darkness hemming them. ”Modeling was my mother's dream for me, never really mine, although I enjoyed it for a while. It was hard work, but it was exciting, too.” Her shrug was almost indiscernible. ”But I'm a geek at heart. I was always getting in trouble for smuggling science texts in bed and reading until three. Used to drive my mother wild because lack of sleep causes shadows under the eyes, and I'd show up for shoots looking haggard and gaunt. Her words.”

He snorted. ”Like that would be possible.”

Her hand brushed his arm, one light stroke. ”I decided to leave the job and attend college.”

Zach could read far more into what she wasn't saying than what she was. ”And your mother?”

”Disagreed. But it was my life and I decided it was time I started living it on my own terms.”

That much he could understand. He'd done the same when he'd joined the military. Again when he came back here. He studied her in the faint light, a little shocked at the clutch in his chest when he saw the smudges under her eyes. ”At the risk of sounding like your mother, you need to get some sleep.”

Her voice was light. ”Are you saying I look haggard and gaunt?”

His throat thickened and he strove to clear it. ”I'm saying you push yourself too hard. You don't take care of yourself. Maybe because you've never had anyone really look out for you.”

Her expression softened. And the slight quiver to her lips had panic streaking up his spine. But her voice when it came was teasing rather than shaky.

”You haven't offered me dessert yet. If you want to follow me back to my motel room here, I'll let you leg wrestle me for rights to the whole cookie.”

Feeling on safer ground now, he pretended to consider the offer. ”Will you be naked?”

”That can be arranged.”

”Then lead the way.”