The events of the night replayed in her mind and a wave of raw grief washed over her. “I don’t want to,” she whispered. “This hurts.”
“He was a good man. A good cop. You loved him. It’s going to hurt.”
Her eyes burned. Stubbornly she held them closed. “Can we pretend it’s not morning for five more minutes? Please?”
“Sure.” His voice was husky but sweet and suddenly not what she needed.
He’d put distance between their bodies and she knew why. She pressed back against him, feeling him hard and ready.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I can’t help it, though. Not when I wake up with you.”
Last night she’d maneuvered around her own grief. Now she needed him to make the day go away, for just a few minutes more.
“David, if last night hadn’t happened, how would you have woken me up?”
She heard the sudden intake of his breath. “I’d be inside you.” And then he was, hard and full, stretching her, making her gasp. “Like that.” He splayed one big hand across her abdomen to pull her closer, pushing deeper.
“And then?” she whispered.
“And then I’d ride you hard.” And he did, making her moan, writhe. Beg for more. His pace was fast and furious and when his thumb found her most sensitive place she went up like a rocket, light bursting against her closed eyelids. He followed with a groan, his body going rigid, his hands gripping her hips as he ground himself into her.
They lay shuddering together, panting like sprinters. Later she might worry over how he’d gotten so good, but for now she was grateful he’d pushed the day away a few more minutes.
Her breathing returned to normal, bringing with it the knowledge she could put the day off no longer. They both had jobs to do. She opened her eyes, their two cell phones on the nightstand the first thing she saw.
And something clicked.
“He takes their cell phones,” she murmured and felt David stiffen in surprise.
He leaned up on his elbow and stared down at her. “Excuse me?”
She looked up at him urgently. “This guy takes their cell phones. Tomlinson, Val, and now Kenny. He’s taken all of their phones.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know yet.” She pulled him down for a hard kiss. “I have to go.” She rolled to sit on the edge of the bed, then stopped, another truth asserting itself. She looked over her shoulder, saw he’d realized it, too. “We, um, forgot something this time.”
His gray eyes were intense, even though his cheeks had reddened beneath his morning stubble. “You’re safe with me, Olivia.”
Her own cheeks heated. It was an awkward conversation, to say the least. “Me too. They checked me six ways to Tuesday when I donated my kidney to Mia, and there hasn’t been anyone since. But… I’m not on the Pill. I should have been more careful.”
Still lying on his side, he ran his palm lightly down her arm, intertwining his fingers with hers. “I waited for you for a long time. I’m not walking away.”
She swallowed. “It’s just… I grew up without a father. I should have been careful.”
“I understand that,” he said steadily. “But I’m not walking away.” He pressed a kiss to her palm. “Now go, get in the shower or we’ll both be late for work.”
Wednesday, September 22, 7:30 a.m.
Austin Dent opened his eyes. The sun was up. He’d slept a little. Worried a lot.
His mom would be worried sick, even though she’d been the first and only text he’d sent when he got away. I’m ok. Borrowed your car. Didn’t do anything wrong. Sorry.
His heart still thundered when he remembered watching the police car pull into his driveway. Run. Cell in hand, he’d grabbed a hoodie from a chair and escaped through his bedroom window. He’d run through the woods, not looking back until he’d come to a neighbor’s house. The neighbor had left a bicycle outside and he’d taken it, riding as fast as he could to the truck-stop diner where his mother slung hash all night. Her car was there. Luckily, his keys and wallet had been in his pockets when he’d run.
He’d taken her car, driving north, intending to slip across the Canadian border.
But what good would that do? That was crazy thinking. He needed to find a way to make this stop. He needed to think. He’d needed to sleep. Luckily there were more places to hide up here in the northern woods than anywhere he knew. He’d tucked the car into a clearing and managed to get a little rest.
But now the sun was up and he needed to make some choices. Where do I go? Who do I trust? He picked up his cell phone. He’d removed the battery while he slept, not really sure if anyone could use it to find him.
He replaced the battery, then blinked when he saw all the texts. People had been trying to reach him for hours. His mother. Trust the police.
Kenny. Believe the police.
The police. We’re not going to hurt you.
And Kenny again. Cops took my old fon. They lie. Don’t trust them.
Austin turned off his phone, scared and confused, but knowing nothing was going to change if he sat here. Answers were in Minneapolis. So that’s where he’d go.
Wednesday, September 22, 8:00 a.m.
David was surprised to find Tom waiting for him in the firehouse lounge. His nephew lurched to his feet, his face bent in a frown. “Are you okay?” Tom asked.
David signed in and headed straight for the coffee. “Hard night, but I’m fine.”
“I heard on the TV about Zell. Any news?”
“I called the hospital on my way in. They said he was unchanged.” David poured them both cups of coffee and handed one to Tom. “I guess we won’t know anything for a day or two. You remember Detective Kane, Olivia’s partner?”
Tom nodded, his frown deepening. “I heard it on the news. They said he was saving some kid from getting kidnapped.”
“Which is all mixed up in this glass-ball craziness.” And that a ball had not been found at last night’s scene had been nagging at him.
“Poor Olivia. She’s got to be crushed.”
“She is, but she’ll stand.” And so will I. She’d turned to him that morning, needing him. He’d been afraid that in the light of day he’d see contempt in her eyes. But she’d taken the worst secret he owned and put it in the past. He’d find a way to do the same.
“I know. But still…” Tom sighed. “I’ve got a nine o’clock class, so I don’t have much time. I found a few things on that Web site we talked about. Can we talk here?”
It was very quiet in the firehouse that morning, the mood depressed, common when one of their own was injured. Everyone was going about their business and nobody was paying attention to them. “Good a place as any. What do you have?”
“The Web site’s domain name is registered to a guy named Hubert Leeds, established ten years ago.”
“Two years after the last Moss fire. Who is Hubert Leeds?”
“Professor Leeds. Taught at the same university as Moss. They were pals, according to a few articles I found.”
“Taught? Leeds retired?”
“No, he’s dead. Died of an aneurysm eight years ago.”
“So the Web site just lived on?”
“Not exactly. I’m not sure when the content was uploaded-you know, the speeches, the recordings, the pictures of Moss. But somebody has been renewing the domain registration. You can’t just let your URL expire or somebody could snap it up and use it for their own Web site. It was last renewed six months ago-and registered out for nine years. That’s the max.”
“Who paid for it?”
“Good question. That would have required a little deeper digging than I was comfortable doing. Credit cards and things like that.”
“So we’re going to need help,” David said unhappily and Tom shrugged.
“Ethan’s not a bad guy, David.”
“I know, I know. Never mind. What else did you find?”
Tom’s brows lifted. “You’re welcome.”
David smiled. “Thank you. What else did you find?”
“I got into the Web site pretty easily. I figured somebody had to be updating it and it was just as likely to be that Lincoln Jefferson guy as anyone. I played with usernames and passwords until I got it right. Didn’t take long. His username is AbeThomas, all one word. And three guesses to his password.”