Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,92
Dace’s smile was grim. “There it is again. You’d do anything, wouldn’t you? Kill? Fight? Even lie to protect her?”
Hell, yes.
“Detective Black!” The cry cut through the hum of voices filling the courtyard area.
Dace’s head jerked toward it. A uniformed cop stood just outside the Life Sciences building. “We found—” The cop cut himself off and ran toward Dace. When he reached him and Wade he staggered to a stop. His breath heaved out and his cheeks were flushed bright red. “Sir, there was a . . . a file in the bottom of Dr. North’s desk.”
“What kind of file?”
“Pictures . . . so many pictures . . .” The cop looked sick. “Of a woman, with dark hair. She was . . . she was tied to a bed. I—I think . . . the photos look like the missing persons’ poster of Kennedy Lane. You know, before she—”
Became nothing but bones.
“It was him,” the cop said, giving a firm shake of his head. “It was that professor all along.”
Dace looked toward the M.E.’s van. “He was the first person I interviewed when I got the case . . .”
The M.E. slammed the back door of the van.
“I could’ve stopped him,” Dace said. “Fucking hell.”
THE CHILL WOULDN’T leave her body. No matter what Victoria did, she just couldn’t seem to feel warm. She was at the police station—in Dace’s office, and Wade was with her.
The cops had talked to Matthew Walker—he’d backed up their story. She didn’t know if the guy would be charged with anything—He brought a loaded gun onto that college campus—but she knew Wade was in the clear.
“Yeah, yeah, Gabe, I know . . . we were supposed to be on the damned plane.” Wade slanted a fast glance at her as he talked on the phone. “But we hit a snag. Yeah, I’d call a guy trying to kill us both a bit of a snag.”
A shiver shook her. It was hot in the office. Hot enough to sweat, so why did she feel so cold? Victoria glanced down at her hands. No blood was on them. Not now.
“Backup?” Wade’s voice floated to her. “I don’t know if we need it right now. Hell, that would have been good to know a few hours ago.”
Her eyes closed as she leaned back in her chair.
“We’re waiting to hear from the detective in charge. Dace Black . . . Yeah, he’s a good guy. Once he gives us the all-clear, we can head back to Atlanta . . . Sure. I’ll meet the fellow at the B&B . . . Asher Young. I got it. Thanks.” There was a long pause, and Wade’s voice turned gruff as he said, “No. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Forget that shit, man. Just forget it.”
Her eyes opened. She saw Wade put the phone down on Dace’s desk. His back was to her and his broad shoulders seemed tense.
“What happened to the plane?” She cleared her throat because her voice had come out husky. “Is it . . . you told him we weren’t leaving today, right?” They couldn’t. Not in the middle of an active investigation like this one. The guilty run. And they had to prove that the shooting had been justified.
Don’t . . . t-trust him . . .
“The pilot took care of it. The plane is going to be waiting for us when we have the all-clear to return home.” He turned to face her, propping his hips against the desk. “Seems we’ve got a new LOST member. Asher Young. He’s a former SEAL, a guy Gabe worked with during his time for Uncle Sam. Gabe vouches for him. Says he’s the kind of man you can count on.” He inclined his head toward her. “And he happens to be our pilot. He’ll be taking a room at the B&B while we get the last of this case sorted out.”
“Another SEAL?” She was surprised. “Why—” Victoria broke off, not really sure how to word her question. The people who worked at LOST were so diverse—a detective, a psychiatrist, a former FBI agent, but . . .
“Gabe thinks our last few missions have been on the dangerous side. He wants more backup for the agents in the field, and he wanted someone who was used to . . . being in the shit.”
She blinked.
“Gabe wants the guy to stay close, just in case . . .” His words trailed off.
“In case of what? Troy isn’t going