Chapter 8
“You’re not coming with me.” Graham fixed his most intimidating stare on Mickey, which was hard as hell to do when she stood in front of him with her explosion of red hair raining down her shoulders and hands fisted on her hips.
“I don’t see how you have a choice. I have the key and I know where the apartment is.”
Dammit, she was right. He’d called the owner of the apartment complex Pete lived in to get his permission to enter the premises, but no one had answered.
Not that he was surprised. It was close to four in the morning.
No sane person would answer their phone right now unless they worked in law enforcement or had children to worry about.
“Just give me the key and let me call in backup. I’ll make a call to secure a warrant and pray like hell it comes in quickly.”
They’d run Pete’s name all day yesterday and hadn’t found anything listed under his name, or any combination of names associated with him.
Besides the house in Mexico, they had dick to go on.
Mickey’s involvement in all of this was still pretty sketchy, but if she was willing to lead him to Pete’s apartment, he had to jump on the opportunity.
“I’m the one he gave a key to. If he didn’t want me inside, he should have taken it back. There’s nothing from stopping me, an angry ex-girlfriend, from snooping around his place.”
“And contaminating evidence we might find to catch him?” Lord, the woman was infuriating. She didn’t understand how she could ruin everything by being such a stubborn pain in his ass.
Or maybe she did understand.
Mickey pressed her lips together and returned his intimidating stare with one of her own. He hated it to admit, but hers was better.
He sighed. They’d wasted enough time arguing. “Let’s go. My car’s parked in a garage a couple blocks over.”
“We can walk. His apartment is closer than the garage.” She looked at her broken door and winced. “What should I do with the door? I can’t even shut it all the way, let alone lock it.”
“I’ll make a call and have someone stand watch until the guy comes to fix it. You said he’d be here soon, right?”
“Yeah.” She glanced around the apartment. “Okay. There’s nothing much for anyone to take, and I want to get to Pete’s in case we find something to get Becca back. I don’t want to waste time.”
“If you’re worried about it, you can stay here while I check out the apartment.”
If looks could kill, he’d be flat on the floor. “Never mind. It was only a suggestion. Let’s go.”
He closed the door as best he could, and then followed Mickey down the stairs.
He sent off a quick text to Eric, requesting a man stationed at Mickey’s door, and then put his phone back in his pocket.
He stepped outside and a light mist sprayed down on him.
Gray clouds filled the early morning sky, and people huddled under umbrellas as they hurried past. The sun hadn’t even risen and people were already on their way to work.
Or maybe on their way home from the bar.
He glanced at Mickey. “Do you still want to walk?”
She smirked at him and the small mole above her mouth lifted. “Afraid of a little water?”
“No, but I’m not the one wearing white.” His eyes scanned the long line of her body and his chest tightened.
Mickey’s chin dropped, taking in the color of her T-shirt, and a crimson blush crept up her chest and consumed her entire face. He smiled. Damn, she was cute when she was embarrassed.
She hunched her shoulders forward and took off walking, her long legs carrying her quickly down the sidewalk. “I guess we better walk fast then,” she called over her shoulder.
Graham couldn’t help the smile that took over his mouth.
He followed closely behind her, weaving in between people they passed on the way down the block.
The light mist formed into tiny droplets that coursed down his face.
He didn’t mind. A little bit of water was better than the suffocating humidity from yesterday.
Mickey stopped short in front of him and the toe of his shoe came down on her heel.
She lurched forward and he reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her.
She fell back against him. The subtle curve of her spine and the rounded shape of her ass molded to his body.
He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose.
Heat poured through his veins and need pulsed deep inside him.
The drops of rain grew larger as they fell from the sky.
He bunched the wet material of her shirt in his hands and his knuckles brushed against the smooth flesh hidden underneath.
Her body tensed. The smell of rain mixed with the damn strawberries that clung to her tempted him to draw her closer.
He leaned down and buried his nose in her hair.
She spun around and faced him. “What are you doing?”
His hands released her shirt and he gripped her hips. “I’m… I don’t know.”
Anger darkened the color of her eyes. “You sniffed my hair. Why?”
He avoided her pointed stare, but he couldn’t pull himself away from her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Obviously not.” She pointed at the old brick building in front of them. “Do you want to go in, or stand in the rain and keep smelling me?”
He dropped his hands from her hips but didn’t step away. Heat vibrated between them, mixing with the rain as if he were standing in the middle of a damn jungle. He glanced around. People continued to pass by them, oblivious to the battle warring inside him.
Was Mickey oblivious, too? Did she know how bad he wanted her?
Of course she does, you idiot. She just caught you sniffing her hair.
He finally took a step back. Flirting with Mickey was a big mistake. Not only was it taking his mind off the case, but she could be playing off his obvious attraction to her to keep him from putting the pieces of her involvement with Pete together. He had to get his shit together, and quick.
“Lead the way,” he said, extending an open palm toward the building.
The smirk from earlier came back on her face, and he fought every impulse not to kiss it off.
Pete’s building was older than Mickey’s, even though it was only a block away.
And if he were a block from Mickey, he had lived close to all three of the girls he had taken in the last month.
He hunted close to home. Pulling his phone out, he brought up Eric’s number.
His thumbs flew over his screen as he wrote out Pete’s address.
Here’s his address. Find out who it’s listed under.
Mickey held the door to the building open for him, and then turned to the only apartment on the first floor.
“Did you come here a lot?” he asked as she pushed open the door and followed her inside.
“No. He’d just moved to town when we met, and he said he needed to furnish the place. When he was in town, he spent a lot of time at my apartment.” She spun the key in her hands.
“He didn’t get far,” he said, scanning the room. “How did you two meet?”
She snorted out a sad laugh and walked by him. “We ran into each other at a grocery store. Literally. We were both looking through the produce and our carts smashed into each other.”
He glanced to the right at the kitchen. The room was so small, not even a table could fit on the thin strip of dingy tiles. “Did he speak to you first? Who asked who out?”
“Why does it matter?” she snapped. “I started a relationship with a nice man. I didn’t knowingly invite a monster into my life.”
He faced her with raised brows before continuing his quick appraisal of the apartment.
A dirty green recliner sat in the middle of the otherwise empty living room.
Dust hung heavy in the air and cobwebs cluttered the corners of the walls.
Pieces of paper littered the time-warped wooden floor.
He bent down and picked up a couple pieces of notebook paper crumbled beneath his shoe.
Names and dates scrawled across the pages. They’d have to search every single one.
“I’m surprised he gave you a key. There’s not much in here. Is this what it looked like when you came here with Pete?”
She shrugged. “Pretty much. I think the only reason he gave me a key is because I gave him a copy of mine. He didn’t make a big deal about it.”
Footsteps echoed behind him, and he turned as Mickey disappeared around a corner.
He stood to follow her. The last thing he needed was for her to hide, or worse, destroy, an important piece of evidence.
The floorboards creaked under his weight as he took a few long strides down the narrow hallway.
Mickey disappeared into a room at the end of the hallway, but a closed door on his right grabbed his attention.
His hand curved around the handle, but when he tried to turn it, it wouldn’t budge.
“Mickey, what’s in here?”
She stuck her head out of the doorway. “’I don’t know. I’ve never been in there.”
“Do you know where the key is? It’s locked.”
She shook her head. “No, but the locks look the same as the ones in my apartment. You can turn the lock with the edge of a credit card.”
He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and Mickey disappeared again.
What was she looking at in there? Should he follow her before he opened the locked door?
Curiosity and a strong gut instinct won out. He grabbed a credit card and the corner squeezed into the small slot on the door handle. Turning the card slowly, he turned the lock and opened the door. His eyes darted around the room and a low whistle vibrated through his lips.
He stepped into the room and grabbed his phone.
He turned on the camera and took pictures of the far wall.
Pictures scattered the cracked beige surface from floor to ceiling.
He snapped pictures of every inch and then sent them all to Eric.
Leaning closer, he studied each of them.
The smiling face of Becca stared back at him.
Some of her with her mom, others with Mickey.
The other two girls littered the wall as well, and he clenched his hands into fists.
The pervert had been stalking them all for months.
Pictures of each of the girls leaving school, playing on a playground, and walking around the city were posted for the bastard’s pleasure.
Pete had captured photos of the girls with their mothers, friends, and other close family members.
He hadn’t dated anyone close to the other girls, but both of the mothers interviewed yesterday recognized Pete.
Both of them were horrified to discover he had taken their daughters.
Pete had become a casual neighbor, showing up at places they had frequented and starting casual, friendly conversations while waiting in line or passing on the sidewalk.
Neither woman knew his real name, but he had always been quick with a smile or a piece of candy for their daughters.
The sick bastard had slowly earned their trust from a distance before luring them away.
And they weren’t the only girls up there. He’d bet money some of them matched the names on the papers he’d found.
His blood boiled and muddled his brain. But one question stood out in his mind.
Why was it different with Becca? Pete had gotten to know Becca on a personal level, through Mickey.
That couldn’t be a coincidence. Had he targeted Mickey to get close to Becca?
Or was his gut wrong, and Mickey was involved in this disgusting mess?
One thing was certain, he needed to stop letting his attraction to her creep up and steal his focus.
Not only was it stupid, it could cost these girls their lives.
A sharp gasp sounded behind him, and he spun around and faced Mickey’s wide eyes. She lifted her shaking hand and covered her mouth, her gaze fixed on the wall of pictures. “Oh my God.”
He studied her as her eyes darted over the wall. “Looks like we found his hideout. Too bad there’s not a big sign pointing to where he ran to next.”
All the color drained from her face and moisture filled her eyes. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”
He squinted and kept the muscles in his face relaxed.
Had she gone pale because of the disturbing images, or was she feeling guilty for knowing where Pete was?
Maybe she had willingly brought him here because she knew Pete would be long gone, and there’d be nothing left to show him where to look next.
Her gaze drifted from the picture to his face and she dropped her hand from her mouth. Her jaw hardened and the moisture left her eyes and fire replaced it. “Stop looking at me like that.”
He tilted his head to the side and fixed a bored stare on her. “Like what?”
She threw her hands in the air. “Like I’m a criminal.” She gestured toward the wall. “Do you honestly believe I had something to do with this?” Her voice broke and she bit down on her lip and turned her head.
“I think we have plenty to secure a warrant once we figure out who owns the apartment. We should leave before we ruin more evidence than we already have.”
Her mouth dropped open and he walked past her toward the door.
He ignored the nagging guilt in the pit of his stomach.
He had to keep a wall up between them until he figured her out.
His phone vibrated against his thigh and he pulled it out.
A text message from Eric scrolled across the screen along with the picture of a blond woman with cold blue eyes.
“Does the name Connie Difico mean anything to you?” He turned and watched her reaction to the name Eric had just sent him.
Mickey shook her head and her hair swirled around her, stirring up the dust in the air. “No.”
He crossed the room and held his phone in front of her face. “Does she look familiar?”
If possible, her face became even more pale. Fear flashed in the irises of her eyes as she stared at the screen and her chin quivered. “That’s the woman who tried to kill me. Did the police find her?” Her voice shook and rose an octave with every word.
“This is the woman who was in your apartment last night?” He flipped the phone toward him and studied the picture again. She couldn’t be older than twenty-five.
“Yes. I told you I didn’t make it up.” She pointed at the phone. “I know that’s her.”
“The police don’t have her, Mickey. But we’re standing in her apartment.”