Page 16 of Scorched (Killer #2)

At least five times in the two minutes he sat at the red light, Paul debated running it. Each time he talked himself down. What could happen to Elise in two minutes?

The light changed. Just as Paul pressed his foot to the accelerator, a young woman driving a burgundy sports car and talking on a cell phone ran the red light.

“Damn!” Paul slammed his foot on the brakes to keep from hitting the oblivious idiot. As soon as she passed, Paul checked for oncoming traffic. Nothing. He hit the accelerator and sped forward, determined to catch up with Elise before she got home.

At the next corner, he barely slowed, taking the turn a little faster than was safe for the normal driver. His tires squealed and he slowed. That’s when he saw Elise’s metallic gray, four-door sedan with the blue and gold Minnesota Vikings bumper sticker parked in the middle of the road.

Paul slammed his foot to the brakes and skidded to a halt behind her. He engaged his emergency blinker and jumped from his truck.

As he rounded the side of the vehicle, shards of glass on the ground caught the sunlight and twinkled up at him. Elise sat inside, her body rigid, her hands covering her face.

Paul’s heart jumped into his throat, and he jerked at the door handle. “Elise!” The door was locked. “Elise, unlock the door.” With desperation trumping reason, Paul yanked on the door, knowing it wouldn’t open until she unlocked it.

Her eyes still shut, Elise dropped her left hand to the armrest and fumbled to locate the power switch for the door lock.

At the faint click, Paul jerked the door handle and flung open the door. “Elise?”

Both hands were covering her eyes again. “I have glass in my eyes. I’m afraid to do anything in case it cuts me.”

“Just be still. I have a bottle of water in my truck. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Reluctant to leave her, Paul ran back to his truck and rummaged in the backseat for the bottle of water he kept handy for after a workout. By the time he got back to her, Elise had turned sideways in her seat and set her feet on the pavement.

“Here, let me help you.” He hooked an arm around her waist and helped her straighten without bumping her head. He steered her to the curb. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Just prickles like big grains of sand in my eye. But I’m afraid to blink or open my eyes until I have something to remove the glass.”

When she’d straightened, Paul slid his hand from around her waist up beneath the hair at the back of her neck. “Lean back and I’ll flush your eyes with the water.”

She tipped her head back, a small chuckle escaping her. “You’re going to smear my mascara.”

That she could laugh at a time like this was more than Paul could take and not kiss her. He pressed his lips to her temple. “I promise not to laugh.” Holding the bottle poised over her left eye, he said, “Tilt your head a bit to the left so we don’t wash it out of one eye into the other.”

Oblivious to the cars creeping around them in the street, Paul poured water over her eyelid. “Open slowly.”

Elise’s left eyelid fluttered open. “That’s good.” She eased her eyelid closed and opened it again. “Better. Now the other.”

Paul repeated the routine on the other side until he emptied the bottle. “Feel like we got it all?”

“I think so. When I get home, I’ll get under the shower. ”

“No, I’m taking you to an optometrist. You don’t mess with your eyesight.”

“I’ll be fine. I need to get home to my sons. I promise I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.” Elise pushed her damp hair out of her face and crossed the pavement to examine her car. The front windshield was shattered. She wouldn’t be driving it until she replaced the windshield. “What did I hit?”

Paul surveyed the car and the surrounding area. He knelt beside her back left tire, lifted a large red brick, and held it up, anger burning in his chest. “Did you see who threw it?”

Elise’s face blanched. “I was looking in the rearview mirror. All I saw was a shadow of the brick when it hit.”

Paul made a mental note of the street name and numbers to report to the sheriff and the wrecker service.

If he knew who’d thrown the brick, he’d skip the sheriff altogether and perform a little vigilante justice himself.

First, he had to get Elise home safely. “Come on. We’ll pick up the boys on the way to the optometrist.”

Elise shook her head, her lips twisting into a wry grin. “You really should run screaming from me. I’m beginning to think my life is jinxed.” Although she smiled, her voice cracked, and she sniffed.

His heart constricting inside his chest, Paul reached out and held her arms, staring down into watery blue eyes with black smudges beneath them where her mascara had run. He couldn’t recall anyone more beautiful. “You’re okay.” Then he bent to brush her lips with his.

Her eyes widened and her fingers rose to touch where his lips had been. “Please don’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry. There’s something about you that I can’t seem to resist.” When he bent to kiss her again, she pressed her hands against his chest, stopping him.

“Remember? I’m the wife of a serial killer.”

“No, as you reminded me, you’re Elise Johnson.” He’d already stepped way over the line of FBI agent and protected citizen, so he held off. As much as he wanted to kiss her again, it had to be her choice.

The hands on his chest bunched in the fabric of his shirt and pulled him down until his lips met hers. “I know I’m going to regret this, but...” She pressed her lips to his, her tongue sweeping past his teeth to tangle with his.

A bright yellow school bus eased around their parked cars.

As though just remembering where she was, Elise straightened, her eyes going wide. “I must be out of my mind.”

“Because you kissed me?”

“I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me.”

“No, sweet Elise, you kissed me.”

She pressed her fingers to her lips and stared at the bus, thinking of all the reasons she shouldn’t be kissing Paul and not caring about even one of them at that moment.

A sea of faces peered through the glass windows of the school bus at her and the wrecked car.

Among the faces, a familiar one stood out.

Brandon.

Sometimes, being a mom was tough. Especially when you wanted to be yourself. “We have to get going.” She stepped out of Paul’s arms and reached inside her car for her purse and the stack of papers that needed grading. “Think the car will be all right if we leave it here?”

“I’ll get a wrecker to pick it up. There’s plenty of room for other cars to go around in the meantime.” Paul held open the passenger seat door to his truck.

Once she’d buckled herself into the leather seat, Elise scrubbed at the black under her eyes, while Paul rounded the hood of the pickup and slipped in beside her. “Do you think whoever wrote the note also threw the brick?”

Paul frowned. “No.”

Elise waited for more, but it wasn’t forthcoming. “No?”

“Whoever is behind the murder victim and the missing girl wouldn’t be so sloppy as to throw a brick and risk being seen.” Paul shifted into gear and pulled around the stranded car, picking up speed to catch the bus.

Paul placed a call to Sheriff Engel while Elise called her insurance company, each reporting the damage.

When they reached Highland Street, the bus had just pulled away from the bus stop. Brandon walked toward the house, his shoulders slumped. Luke dragged his backpack behind him by one of the loose straps.

Elise shook her head. “I can’t keep that child in backpacks.” Though she was talking about Luke, her heart went out to her oldest son. As soon as Luke turned and saw the truck, he let out a whoop. “It’s Paul! It’s Paul!”

Brandon didn’t look back but continued toward the house.

Paul rolled the window down and called out to Luke. “Climb in the backseat.”

“Yay! I get to ride in the monster truck!” Luke climbed up on the running board and jerked the door open. He slung his backpack onto the floorboard and clambered up into the truck. “Can we go to the rodeo? Can we?”

“Luke, honey,” Elise said. “The rodeo has already come and gone. We’ll have to wait until next fall when it comes back.”

“Are you going to start on the fence? Can we get our puppy?”

Paul laughed out loud. “Do you ever breathe?”

“Sure. All the time.” He huffed in and out and patted his chest. “See?”

Brandon reached the house before the truck pulled into the drive. He dug in a side pocket of his backpack, unearthing a key. Without glancing their way, he inserted the key in the door and pushed it open.

Paul shifted into Park, his gaze on the boy.

What would it take for Brandon to warm up to Paul? The boy had lost one parent already. He might think of Paul as someone who might take his mother away from him. How could he convince the child that would never happen?

Luke burst out of the truck and dropped to the ground. He rounded the house and ran into the backyard.

Paul glanced across at Elise. “Want me to talk to him?”

“No. I will.” She sighed. “Give me a minute, will you?”

Elise gathered her purse and the papers and headed into the house.

Once inside, she dropped the papers on the counter and hurried down the hall to Brandon’s room. Only he wasn’t there. He’d stopped in front of Elise’s room and stood just inside the doorway, staring at the wall, his eyes round, his face pale.

“Brandon?” Elise closed the distance between them and dropped to her knees beside her son. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t look at her, he just kept staring straight ahead. “I didn’t do it, Mommy.”

Elise’s heart flipped in her chest, and she turned her head so slowly she felt she was in a time warp.

On the clean white wall over the headboard of her bed were words scrawled in bold black letters.

Roses are red

Her eyes were blue

She was a blond e

And looked just like you .

Lying below the note, neatly stretched across the snowy white pillowcase, was a lock of long blond hair.

“Elise?” Paul called out from the living room.

Elise straightened and turned Brandon away from her room. “It’s okay, Brandon. I know you didn’t do it.”

“But who? Who would have done it?” he whispered. Then his gaze locked on Paul and his body stiffened.

Before Elise realized what was happening, Brandon flew at Paul, scratching and kicking, screaming at the top of his voice. “You did it! It’s all your fault! You never should have come!”

Paul gripped the boy by the shoulders but found no relief from his swinging feet.

“Brandon!” Elise tried to get to her son.

Paul’s voice stopped her. “Elise, let me handle this.”

“Brandon,” he called out over the child’s screams. “Brandon!”

The little boy kept on kicking and screaming, tears running down his cheeks. “It’s all your fault.”

Just when Elise couldn’t take it anymore, Paul lifted Brandon and wrapped him in a hug tight enough the boy couldn’t move his arms or legs. He grunted his frustration, the tears coursing. “If you hadn’t come, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“No, Brandon.” Elise moved up behind him and laid a hand on his back. “Someone is trying to scare us.”

“It’s him!”

“No, Paul is here to protect us. Aunt Brenna sent him. He helped us up in North Dakota. He’ll help us now.”

“No, he’s the one doing this.”

“No, sweetheart, he’s not. Agent Fletcher is one of the good guys.”

Brandon looked into Paul’s eyes, his own blue eyes filled with distrust. “You took Daddy away, didn’t you?”

“Brandon, your dad died in a fire.”

“No, he didn’t!” Brandon shot an accusing glance at Elise.

The force of the look almost made her stagger. She couldn’t deny Brandon’s claim. With the notes and the woman who’d disappeared, she truly believed her husband was back and that he wanted revenge.

The anger and hurt dissolved as he stared at her. “Mom, is it true? Did our dad kill all those women?”

Elise’s heart broke into a million pieces. She’d never wanted her sons to know the extent of their father’s horrible legacy.

“Brandon, some people get sick in ways that aren’t like a cold or flu. They get sick here.” Paul loosened his grip enough to touch his finger to his temple.

Brandon switched his attention to Paul, the frown still furrowing his young brow. “Like crazy people?”

“Yes.” Elise pounced on that. “Your father couldn’t help it. His brain was sick.”

Brandon pushed against Paul’s arms. “You can put me down. I won’t hurt you.”

If Elise weren’t so upset, she would have smiled at the little boy telling the hulking agent he wouldn’t hurt him.

Brandon stood there, all straight and serious, like a little old man, not a boy of eight. “Am I going to get sick like my father?”

Elise dropped to her knees and pulled her son into her arms. “No, Brandon. You are not going to get sick like your father.”

He pushed her to arm’s length. “What about Luke? Is he going to get sick like our father?”

Tears welled in Elise’s eyes. “No, baby, you both are going to be just fine. You’ll grow up into wonderful, loving men and have children and families who love you.”

Brandon stood for a long moment, staring into his mother’s eyes, seeking reassurance. Finally, he nodded. “I’d better go check on Luke.”

“That’s a good idea.” Elise stood, scrubbing the tears from her eyes. “Please have him come inside, will you?”

As Brandon turned toward the back door, Paul laid a hand on his shoulder. “You have a mighty good kick.”

Brandon hung his head and scuffed his shoe against the carpet. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fletcher. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay. At least I know you can defend your mother like a pro.”

Brandon looked up at Paul, his eyes burning fiercely bright. “I won’t let anyone hurt her. ”

“And nor will I. I promise.” Paul held out his hand, man-to-man.

With all the dignity of a statesman, Brandon shook Paul’s hand. Then he ran for the back door, yelling, “Luke! Luke, you get in here right now!”

Elise faced her bedroom again and pushed the door open. “It’s another note.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah.”

Elise shivered, her thoughts going back to the spring in North Dakota as one woman after another disappeared, only to be found dead days later. “If he follows the same pattern as last time, he’s going to kill again,” she whispered.

When Paul didn’t answer, she looked up into his eyes. “How can we keep him from taking another woman?”

For a moment, Paul refused to meet her gaze. When he did, his blue eyes were the flat color of slate. “We can’t.”

Elise’s heart flipped over, all the blood leaving her head in a rush. She leaned a hand against the wall to steady herself. “Dear God. He already has another.”

Paul nodded. “Last night.”