Mattie clenched her fists. With weighted legs, she forced herself to keep walking. The urge to hold onto something solid like Greg’s hand overwhelmed her as they approached the huddle of uniformed responders standing next to the lighthouse. Two mobile spotlights illuminated the base with a spray of brilliance for the investigators to find the smallest clues. Her senses hyperaware, Mattie’s gaze paused to watch the raindrops sparkle, passing through the wash of light. Distracted by movement, she saw four men walking up the handicap access path carrying a black canvas tent, presumably to preserve evidence.
“Wait here, Mattie,” Stuart instructed, then shouldered his way through the crowd.
Her gaze dropped to the wet stone under her shoes, not in any hurry to see what the circle of people blocked from her view. Marlene’s body lay on the other side of the tower, hidden from her view. When Greg’s warm fingers clasped her hand for reassurance, she gladly accepted his closeness.
“Was she a friend as well as a co-worker?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and nodded. “Our newspaper isn’t large by global standards. Doesn’t take an army to run it. We all know each other.”
Stuart reappeared from the sea of dark, blue bomber jackets worn by the Vic PD. Their radios squawked, but the gale wind from the ocean carried the sound out to sea.
Reaching them, he gently gripped her shoulders. “I want you to think twice about doing this. I know your dad was a cop. You’ve seen a lot of crime scene photos, but I think you should head back to my car. I’ll bring some images to you.”
She swallowed and her heart beat erratically. “That bad?”
Stuart’s compassionate gaze didn’t help to soothe her nerves. “It is.” He darted a glance at Greg. “Take her away from here. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”
She shook her head and swept the rain from her eyes. The Ripper cut Marlene’s life short. Mattie owed her, not only as a fellow journalist, but as a friend. Marlene was the Colonist’s cheerleader. She never saw other writers as competition, wanting everyone to succeed. And they’d spent more than a couple nights comparing notes on being single over drinks after work. “No. I need to see—what he did.”
Greg didn’t oppose her decision, and her hand slipped from his as Stuart led her through the crowd. The men and women parted to let them pass, their conversations dwindling to a deafening silence. One more deep breath and Stuart would step aside and so would her imagination. The horrifying images it had created since they’d arrived would become a hundred times worse under the unforgiving light of reality.
Stuart’s arm wrapped around her shoulders when she stopped. Nothing protected her from the truth her sight revealed.
The Ripper had propped Marlene’s body against the whitewashed column of the lighthouse. A slack expression of death glazed her open eyes. Strands of Marlene’s beautiful, soaking wet blonde hair, plastered to her face.
Mattie’s hand rose to cover her mouth. She couldn’t scream but her stomach warned it might erupt.
Stuart’s arm squeezed tighter. “Remember she’s gone. She feels nothing. This is just an empty shell. Marlene’s soul is safe and there’s no more pain.”
His comforting timbre gave her the courage to compute what the Ripper had done to Marlene’s body. He’d torn her open from groin to neck, but it was the note he’d left on the lighthouse above her body, smeared with Marlene’s blood that caught her attention. The police worked around them, securing the canvas cover to preserve the words dripping in red stringy letters and her eviscerated body.
Mattie, it was so nice to meet you. Trust we’ll meet again.
She read the words.
Then read them again.
And again.
Each time, her blood grew a little colder, then chilled to a thick syrup. So nice to meet you? Her brow creased tight. Meet him? She’d met the Ripper? When? Where?
She stumbled backward a pace, her heart hammering.
Stuart stepped into her line of vision. “What does he mean?”
“I don’t know. At a grocery store. Coffee bar. It could’ve been anywhere.”
“No, it couldn’t. It’s written as if he spoke to you. Met you in person. Think, Mattie.”
The flash of a camera made her blink. The crime scene investigators needed to work. She needed to think. Trying to give them room, she bumped into a solid chest behind her. Thick arms wrapped around her torso as if protecting her from everyone.
“Give her a second.” Greg’s deep voice rushed past her ear.
She clenched Greg’s hands for balance. A roar of adrenaline rose in her ears. She’d met the bastard. Met him face to face!
“He’s playing with us. I’d know if I met him.” Confused, she shook her head. “Wouldn’t I?” She turned in Greg’s arms to face him. “I’d know.”
He surveyed her and shook his head. “Sweetheart, he’s not taunting you with a lie. You’ve seen him. It’s his way of validating his superiority. He thinks he’s infallible.” Greg drew her closer. “He’s not any of those things and we’ll catch him.”
Mattie rested her cheek against his chest slick with rainwater, but warm with the strength of his beating heart. “Before he removes my liver?” she asked.
Sergeant Montgomery startled her when his gravelly voice said, “That and a lot more, Miss Bidault. If his next mark is you, then we have the best chance to catch him that we’ve ever had.”
“She’s not bait.” Greg’s expression tightened, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.
Montgomery surveyed him then zeroed in on her. “She is, whether we like it or not. The Ripper has more than likely followed Miss Bidault’s articles in the newspaper since the first murder. He may have run across her by chance or sought her out. Either way, he’s intrigued by her. That message has more meaning than just the words. Does the newspaper record all incoming calls?”
“No, not on my direct line. You think he called me?”
Stuart joined their circle. “It’s a possibility, but I doubt it.” He swept a look at the message again. “He was within striking distance. Probably more recent than not.”
She closed her eyes. Greg, Kayla, the Admiral, Stuart, the officers on the task force. The postman, the servers at the pub or restaurants she’d visited, none of them could be the Ripper. Trust we’ll meet again.
The tight crowd around the murder scene shifted to allow a stretcher to pass through. The coroner’s office had arrived. Gary swung a look across the body, the message above Marlene and then to her. “Sergeant Montgomery, have your men pull back.” Wearing a dark wind breaker, province issued with the name Chief Coroner crocheted across the right breast, Gary sniffed and removed his glasses. “It’s time I call your father, Mattie.”
“No, Gary, please. He’d get on the next plane home.”
“Exactly.” Gary pulled a tissue and rubbed the rainwater from the lenses. “Your father was one of the best murder investigators in the RCMP. We need him. You—need him.”
Montgomery’s expression tightened with anger. “We will catch the Ripper.”
Gary tilted his head, seemingly unaffected by the sergeant’s sinister tone. “You have nothing, Montgomery. The task force is empty-handed in this investigation. I will not allow you to drag Mattie into this like a lamb to slaughter.”
“She’s already involved. Maybe you should consider retiring since your eyesight isn’t all that good,” he growled, referring to the message the Ripper had left behind.
“Gary, as much as I’d like to disagree with Sergeant Montgomery, he’s right.”
Before she could continue, Greg cut into the conversation. “We’ll wait for you at the car, Stuart.”
Stuart nodded with understanding.
Whether she would become part of the investigation could wait until tomorrow.
* * * *
Greg’s pulse beat furiously as he followed Mattie down the stairs toward the causeway leading back to the parking lot. Before they reached Stuart’s vehicle, he had to convince her to return to his place. The Ripper had her marked as his next victim. That’s really what the gruesome message on the lighthouse meant.
She stopped on the uneven pavement of the causeway and gazed into the night. The navigation lights of an inbound deep sea ship transiting the waters of Juan de Fuca Strait dotted the darkness.
“Why here?” she asked.
He’d contemplated the same thing. “We haven’t found a connection between the kill sites and the Ripper yet. You think this place means something to him?”
Mattie nodded. “I do. Fisgard is a historic location like several of the other murder scenes. A high traffic tourist stop.”
“What else do you see?” He wanted to open her thoughts in every possible direction.
If the Ripper had met Mattie, he knew her well enough that she’d want to work this out. He’d never left a message before. She had caught his attention in the worst way possible. The clock had just started ticking. A race to find the Ripper before he found Mattie.
Greg understood Stuart’s urgency, but pushing her would result in her subconscious stubbornness slamming the door and opening only when she was good and ready. Greg knew a better way. He understood the intriguing woman who believed in him. Give her a puzzle to solve, and she’d accept the challenge.
“Water.” She shrugged. “Entrance to Esquimalt. Maybe he’s in the Navy.”
“Dig deeper, Mattie.” He stepped behind her and wrapped his arms around her when she shivered. “You’ve been tracking him since his first kill. You know him better than he thinks you do. Juan de Fuca Strait isn’t just the main waterway from the Pacific that leads to the Gulf Islands, Vancouver or down to Seattle. He left the body here for a reason. The lighthouse means something to him. It’s a puzzle.”
Mattie turned in his arms and looked into his eyes, causing his heart to squeeze tight. “I don’t know. There’s too many thoughts tumbling around in my head. I can’t think straight. I need to go home and stew on it over a very large glass of wine.” She offered a sad smile. “Maybe then I’ll stop shaking and stop seeing the kaleidoscope of Marlene’s body torn apart over and over again.”
With a gentle hand, he swept a strand of wet hair from her cheek. “Let me come with you.”
“I can’t concentrate when you’re around.”
“Then I have an idea.”
“If it has anything to do with you and me having a shower together, the answer is definitely no. Not that I don’t need one, I’m freezing to death.”
He chuckled, because that’s exactly where his thoughts had gone, but only for an instant. Desire quickly took a step back if it meant being with her. Protecting her. “You need to relax.”
She spit out a caustic laugh. “And sex with you will make me relax, huh? You really are a manwhore. A nice manwhore, but insatiable.”
“When you’re close to me, yes.”
“Bologna.”
“Arret.” When she tried to pull away, he drew her tighter to his chest. “Mademoiselle, you make me raw with desire. That’s the truth, but I’m also selfish. I need to know you’re safe. I can only do that if I’m with you.”
The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel drew their attention as Stuart joined them.
“I’ll take you back to the pub to get your car, Mattie. If you don’t mind, I’ll follow you home.”
“Thanks, Stuart, but I haven’t thought of anything else that would help. I’ll be careful.”
The cop barely gave him a second look when he said, “Guess I’ll drop you off, too.”
Greg rode in the backseat while Stuart and Mattie sat up front. When Stuart reached over and gripped Mattie’s hand, he grit his teeth. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t think Stuart was involved in the Ripper killings any longer. Unsure when he’d changed his view of the cop’s innocence, Greg found a slice of optimism in the fact that Mattie had at least two men concerned for her wellbeing.
* * * *
Stuart slowed to a stop beside her vehicle.
“If I think of anything else, I’ll call you.” She hoped Stuart would take the hint. She didn’t need him following her home. Pressing her for more details wouldn’t help.
When she opened the passenger door and got out, Greg did the same.
“He going home with you?” Stuart asked, staring out the front windshield instead of at her.
“Talk to you tomorrow.”
He pursed his lips and then finally slid his gaze to her. “Call me anytime.”
She closed the passenger door and stepped back. “I really need to think this all out, Greg.”
After she found her keys and unlocked the Toyota’s door, he opened it for her. “And you will, while I take a shower—alone.”
“Doesn’t matter what I say, does it? You’re just gonna follow me home.” She slipped behind the wheel and started her car.
Greg rested his forearms on the door frame when she lowered the window. “Wouldn’t be the first time I spent all night standing watch. If you don’t trust yourself around me, I can spend the night in my car.”
For a second, the horrible images dissipated with his teasing. “Go home, Lieutenant Commander. My building is quite safe.”
“Is it?” He cocked a perfect dark brow. “Guess that body part left in your fridge was a figment of your imagination.”
She wrinkled her nose, hating the fact he had a point. Greg cranked his head, and surveyed the area. “What are you looking for?”
The tease in his voice evaporated. Replaced with a warning timbre. “He’s hunting you, Mattie. Whoever he is, he’ll be waiting for his chance. Don’t give him that chance.”
“You’re messing with my head, aren’t you?”
“Non, Mademoiselle, I’m dead serious.”
“When will he make a mistake?” she asked. Greg’s warning created long roots of fear, making her reconsider his offer to stay.
“He already has. Tonight, he made a big one. We just have to figure it out.” He leaned in and kissed her. “I don’t want to scare you, but I know you’d be much safer sleeping next to me.”
“I’m Irish, not a wilting flower.”
A handsome smile turned the corners of his lips upward. “Well aware of your stubborn streak, but I have one as well.”
Would it be so terrible to have him stay with her? “Follow me home.”
His beautiful eyes sparked. “I’m at your disposal.”
Greg parallel parked his vehicle between two BMW’s out front of her condo complex and then jumped in her car to park in the underground garage. Having him beside her chased the fear and intimidation the Ripper had caused with his note, to the edge of her thoughts.
Once they were safely inside the condo, she locked the door and deadbolt. Greg pulled a handgun from a holster inside his jacket and placed it on her bedside table. For a long drawn out moment they stared at each other. Anxious energy tore through her. He stood too near her bed. His strength, his confidence cracking her resolve.
He stepped closer, his green eyes cutting through her like soft butter. The caress of his fingertips across her neck then down to the first button on her shirt made her knees weak.
“Am I straying out of bounds for wanting to touch you?” he asked.
She swallowed. “Always.”
Her pulse pounded as he slipped the first button of her shirt open.
“And if I wanted more than just to kiss you?”
“More?”
Through the fuzzy blur of lust growing in her belly and clouding her thoughts, she noticed his accent grew thicker with his own desire. Two more buttons were deftly released and the swell of her breast revealed.
Captured by his handsome features, she loved the shadow on his cut jaw. He moistened his full lips with a slow lick of his tongue, draining away her last bit of argument. With the fingers of one hand busy on her blouse, his free hand led her palm to cup the hard bulge in his jeans. She needed more air in her lungs when he lowered himself to his knees and loosened her pants, sliding them down her thighs.
“So much more.”
He caught the edge of her silk thong with one finger and drew it aside. His hesitation and uninterrupted view of her sex sent a sensual sweep through her nerves. Her body quivered, eager and anxious. Greg drove her lust to quaking levels when the tip of his tongue teased her over sensitized skin, and he moaned his approval. His full lips encompassed her bud. He sucked and tugged while the masculine stubbled line of his jaw scratched her thigh.
Just when her knees were going to give out, he wound his strong arms around her thighs and lifted her onto the crisp bedsheets. His shoulders nudged her legs wide open and his tongue stroked her moist slit. As he circled the rim of her opening, more contented growls slid from his throat. Heady bliss arched her back from the mattress.
A cool wind brushed her skin as he quickly stood and swept his shirt over his head and removed his pants. Gripping her hips, he slid her higher on the bed and swung his leg over her impatient body to plant a knee on either side of her shoulders. With his cock stiff and only inches from her mouth, he put his face between her thighs and made love to her with his mouth.
The temptation too great, she palmed his ass and drew a long, slow lick across his head, the bulb of cum salty on her tongue. A gust of air escaped his mouth and his body shuddered.
“God, woman. Suck on me.” His voice like gravel and need, paved her way.
She slid him into her mouth, sweeping her tongue against his thick crown. He groaned and pumped his hips gently then swung around to kneel between her legs. He teased her with the crown of his cock, entering her core with his inflamed head and drawing himself out again.
She opened her eyes and gazed into his. “Greg.”
He nuzzled her neck and kissed his way to her lips. “Shit, you make me feel so fucking good,” he whispered.
With a roll of his hips, he plunged to the root with quick strokes. A frenzy of desire rocketed through her as he teased her nipple, scraping the tip with his teeth.
“Faster.” She demanded her need. Set on fire with each long, deep thrust. Curling her fingers around the caps of his broad shoulders, her hunger spiraled upward.
His tanned skin and rolling abs flexing above her. Tender. Rugged. Lieutenant Commander Greg Lapierre swept her over the edge with his perfection.
* * * *
Mattie stared up at her popcorn painted ceiling. Greg’s deep breathing made her smile. His skin emitted a comfortable warmth against her back. Her bedroom window faced the harbour, and kept the room dark and cozy at night. He needed sleep after the bedsheet gymnastics he’d just put them both through. He demanded all of her when he made love, and she liked that. Probably too much.
She’d gotten a couple winks, but now her mind raced. Carefully, she slid from the bed and pulled on her jogging pants and a sweatshirt over her head. Closing the bedroom door quietly, she strode into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
Mary had moved in with her fiancé. Probably caving to his Royal Canadian Mounted Police command since the Ripper had left his calling card at the condo. Mattie didn’t mind, except the shelves in her fridge sat pretty much empty.
The time on the microwave showed eleven-o-five p.m. Thrifty Foods on Simcoe Street was open twenty-four hours. She could sneak out and be back before he’d know she was gone. They needed milk for sure. Mattie shook the can where she kept the coffee, then popped the plastic lid to peek inside. Only a few tablespoons remained. Digging the phone out of her purse, she made a short list and stuffed her feet into her runners. Before opening the front door she listened. The sound of light snoring confirmed her JTF hero was sound asleep.
Within five minutes, the automatic door at Thrifty Foods swung open as she strolled inside. A few late night customers wandered the aisles with a shopping basket strung over their arm. She didn’t need much, just enough to feed her and Greg in the morning.
Under the rack of bubble-gum and magazines at the end of Check-out Three, she pulled a green hand-basket from the pile and headed toward the coffee. She grabbed her favorite brand of Columbian grinds from the top shelf. Passing the dairy section, she opened the cooler door and lifted a litre of milk from the row. The baked goods area was situated at the back of the store.
“Finding everything you need?” A young guy, probably a college student wearing the store’s green apron, asked as she perused the cinnamon rolls.
“Yes, thanks.” She smiled. He nodded and strode toward an old woman with a walker, struggling to open the ice cream cooler door.
Mattie wasn’t sure if Greg liked baked goods, but she did, and dropped six delicious-looking cinnamon buns with cream cheese icing in her basket. A package of blueberry bran muffins caught her eye and she took those as well. Last stop, the fruit section.
Setting the basket on the floor near the display with a hill of plastic boxed strawberries, she checked for the best ones, turning them over to see if there were any little fuzzies on the bottom. Plump green grapes caught her eye, and she selected a small bag to add to her basket.
“Late night shopping?” a voice said from behind her.
She blinked. He sounded familiar. Turning, she grinned. “Brett. Hi.”
Mattie never expected to lay eyes on him again. Even in the brilliant light of the store, the Merchant Marine captain who’d escorted her into the Dark Angel was an attractive man. He still reminded her a little of Greg. His silky black hair and green eyes watched her with interest. He and Greg were about the same height and build too.
“Suzanne. It’s—nice to see you again,” he said, his gravelly timbre all sorts of sexy.
“I guess I should apologize for the other night.” She shrugged. “BDSM isn’t really my thing. I kind of left in a hurry.”
Brett’s brow rose. “It’s not for everyone.”
“Thank you for being a gentlemen.” He wasn’t pushing a cart or carrying a basket. “So, doing some late night grocery shopping?”
“Dropped by to pick up something I need.” His full lips drew into a slight smile.
She nodded. “Well, they’ve got everything here.”
“So I see.” He tilted his head a little, watching her.
“I better get going.”
With a slight nod, he said, “Goodnight—Suzanne.”
She picked up her basket from the floor and headed toward the check-out. Handsome guy, but she wasn’t into ropes and floggers. Some lucky girl who was into that would probably melt at his Dom-type aura. She felt a little bad about not telling Brett her real name. No matter what happened between her and Greg, Brett couldn’t fill his shoes. Mattie was pretty sure, no man could.
* * * *
Greg rolled over and blinked at the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. His first instinct was to reach for Mattie. When he touched cool sheets, his eyes tore wide open. His pulse doubled its stride and he sat up, running a hand through his hair and stretching his shoulders.
“Mattie.”
When she didn’t answer, he swung his legs over the side of the mattress.
“Mattie!”
He thrust himself from the bed and looked around, then plodded out to the living room. Then the kitchen.
His brows drew tight.
“Mattie!”
Where the hell was she? The bathroom door was open, but she wasn’t there either.
He looked toward the small dining room table where she’d dropped her purse last night. Nothing but their empty wine glasses sat on the surface. He vaulted back into the bedroom, pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed her number. It rang three times.
Hi, you’ve reached Mattie. Not available but leave a message.
“Where the hell are you?”
He disconnected the call and pulled on his clothes in record time, then dialed her number again and left another message. This time, nearly yelling at her. There was no reason to panic. She’d probably just—
The phone in the living room rang and he left skid marks in the carpet. He ripped the receiver from its cradle.
“Mattie?”
“LaPierre. It’s Constable Hellman.”
Greg’s throat constricted. Had Mattie gone to him this morning? Why? “Constable. Mattie isn’t here right now.”
The line went silent. The squawk of police communication chatter broke the silence. “When was the last time you saw her?” he asked.
“What the hell are you talking about? She was here at her condo last night.”
“What time, LaPierre?”
“What the fuck is going on? We came back here after you dropped us off. I fell asleep—”
“Asleep, huh. I thought you were watching her.”
“I am,” he growled.
“She’s obviously not with you now, is she? You fucking bastard.”
Greg paced the living room carpet. “Listen, she probably just headed in to the Colonist to get some work done.”
“Without her car! She’s not at work. I called her boss. A clerk from Thrifty Foods reported a car in their lot this morning. The young guy working the night shift noticed her drive in at around eleven fifteen last night, and saw it was still there when he got off work at seven. It’s Mattie’s car. She’s gone, Lapierre. Mattie’s disappeared.”