Sudden Death

custody ever since the girl had been born. But we quickly realized he hadn’t, that a child predator had grabbed her.

“I knew the statistics, that if we found her alive, she would have been … hurt. But I also knew that if we didn’t find her fast, she’d be dead. My team worked closely with the sheriff’s department, analyzed every tip, every trace of evidence, and based on a small flower, we tracked them to Amador County, east of Sac. We talked to everyone about our suspect’s black van. We found them. In eight hours, forty-nine minutes. And the little girl was not only alive, but untouched.”

She smiled. “Melody. Her name is Melody and she’s nine years old now. And it’s her and everyone else I can save-and can’t save-that keeps me going. If there’s a victim, I want to catch the perp. If there’s a crime, it needs to be solved. I hate loose ends.”

“But.”

“Most crimes I understand. Melody’s kidnapper, he was a repeat sex offender. I understand that. He needed to be stopped, but at least I could look at the victim and look at the criminal and figure out who and what and why. But those folks at the rest stop? Where’s the why in their murders? Why them? Why did they die? It was senseless and wrong. Hell, if they’d been robbed I could understand it! Hate it just as much, but at least there would be a reason. But the killer just shot them and walked away. Let a family die for nothing. And the baby … oh, God, I haven’t felt this helpless since Kosovo.”

“I didn’t know you were there.”

“After the war. I was part of the evidence response team that dug up the mass graves and identified the remains of those slaughtered. Another senseless crime, on a far bigger scale.”

“You couldn’t have stopped what happened in Kosovo just like you couldn’t stop what happened to that family yesterday.”

“But that’s the thing: I know I couldn’t have done anything about Kosovo, and at least giving families a body to bury, answers to their questions, kept me going. But how do you know I couldn’t have stopped Thomas and Loretta from dying? Hans thinks if I hadn’t jumped to the conclusion that George Price was a victim, the Hoffmans wouldn’t have died. I should have brought Price in for questioning-”

“Stop, Megan. We already talked about this. If you didn’t think your victim was Price, we wouldn’t even be this far in the investigation.”

“But the killers wanted it like this. Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I feel manipulated when I realize that it’s because of the killers that I’m here at all. They’re jerking me around, pulling me along on a chain, keeping me far enough away so I can’t stop them, but close enough so I can almost see them … then they slip away. I feel so damn helpless! And now Hans is furious that I spoke to Price without a warrant and didn’t bring him in.”

“He spoke to us because Padre assured him he was safe.”

“I didn’t ask Padre to do that. I have the laws of this country to follow. I should have brought him in. What if I’m wrong again? What if he is involved somehow?”

“You don’t believe that. If you believed he was guilty, you would have arrested him in Cortez.”

“What if I missed something? What if I overlooked evidence, or ignored a witness, or-”

Jack put his finger to Megan’s lips. She sucked in her breath, startled by the touch. One finger, but a wholly intimate gesture.

“What happened tonight with Hans?”

Two tears escaped her eyes. Jack’s jaw clenched. He wanted to hit the man who had made Megan cry.

“It’s me,” she whispered. “I messed up.”

His voice was deeper than normal when he spoke. “I don’t have to tell you what you know in that sharp and beautiful head of yours. Shit happens. People like us stop it when we can, but most of the time we’re cleaning up other people’s messes. You didn’t do anything wrong. You followed your head, and it led you to information that is going to lead us to answers.”

“You believe Price is innocent, right?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know anymore. What if I let a killer get away?”

“Is that what Hans said?”

“He may be right. But it’s out of his hands, and mine.” She turned her head away from him, wiped her eyes, stared at their feet in the water.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s filing a report with OPR. Sort of the FBI’s version of CID.”

Jack put his hand on her jaw and forced her to look at him. “Why?”

“I don’t break the rules, Jack. But since Monday I’ve completely disregarded every rule out there. And if my assumptions led to the Hoffmans being killed-”

“Stop.”

Megan wanted to look away, but Jack held her gaze. He was holding her face too tightly, but in the way he stared at her, she saw the war battling beneath his skin. The same war within her.

“You are not responsible for anyone dying. You did not pull the trigger, and neither did George Price. You know it, I know it, Hans knows it, too. I don’t know what happened today to get his panties in a twist, but tomorrow he’ll think differently.”

“I hope so,” she whispered.

He dropped his hand from her mouth, skimmed her thigh with his fingertips.

This time when Jack kissed her, Megan knew what to expect, but her heart still skipped a couple beats, her blood heated, her breath came heavier. He was intoxicating, and she was an addict. She’d never get enough of Jack, his lips, his tongue, his hands as they moved up her thigh, skimmed her pelvis, landed solidly on her waist. His fingers kneaded her, as if he were a cat getting comfortable. Tom Cat. Jack wasn’t the sort of man to build a relationship, a life, or start a family. Megan knew that in her head, but her heart, and her libido, told her head to stop thinking.

Then she had no room for thought at all. Jack’s kiss was anything but timid and hesitant. His hands moved from her waist, firmly skimmed her breasts, then fisted in her hair, kneading, as he held her head right where he wanted it, his mouth open, his tongue searching for hers. Her senses breathed in his rich, intoxicating aroma of sweat from his run and lust from their embrace. She’d never imagined such an instant passion, a white heat that devoured her, making her yearn for someone, making her want Jack.

He kissed her thoroughly, her lips wonderfully swollen, her body hot and needy. She pushed away thoughts of the future, of how wrong it was to be here with Jack, someone she shouldn’t want and couldn’t have. Megan simply enjoyed the intense heat and mutual deep attraction. Simple? There was nothing simple about Jack Kincaid, and nothing simple about how she felt about him.

He slipped into the pool and pulled her in with him. She gasped as the cool water soaked her clothes. He seemed unaffected. He looked at her, his face inches from hers. Just looked. Her mouth parted. He rubbed his index finger around her lips, up her face, to her eyes. He closed her lids lightly, kissed them with a feather of a touch.

“Come here.” His voice was low and as rough as the whiskers on his face. Without waiting for her to come, he pulled her to him, neck deep in water, holding her up with little effort. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her wet body rubbing against his hard chest. His hand went up under her cami, his thumb rubbing her nipple. She gasped into his mouth and he kissed her hard, his hands stroking up and down her back, her face, her hair.

“It’s time,” he whispered into her ear.

“For what?” She licked his jaw, up to his earlobe and he clutched her tighter.

“To make love.”

She pulled back. “Here?”

He shot her a smile. “I’d love to, but I was thinking more along the lines of a bed. This time.”

This time.

His hand rose from the water and he was holding a key. The number on the plastic tag was 115.

“That’s mine.”