Chapter Twenty-Three
Just before they reached the highway, Ethan pulled the car to the side of the road. He didn’t turn off the engine, just left it running and the air conditioner on.
“What are you doing?” Val asked, watching him work his iPhone.
“Googling Byron Mahler. Seeing if there’s any chance he’ll show up on the Internet. These days you never know.”
“I’ll check Facebook.” Val pulled out her own cell and started working.
After eliminating a number of people with the same name who didn’t match the description, they both came up with zip.
Next Ethan phoned Heath Ford. “I’ve got a name,” he said when his friend answered. “Anonymous tip came in this morning. Pointed to a suspect who fits our profile.”
“Anonymous? That your way of telling me not to ask how you came up with the info?”
Ethan smiled. “Yeah. Suspect’s a twenty-five-year-old white male named Byron Mahler. He’s Amish, Heath, or at least he was until they ousted him ten years ago for the attempted rape of a young Amish woman. He was raised in a community near Stephenville. I’m on my way back from there now.”
“You get a description?”
“At fifteen, he was tall and thin. Very light blue eyes and a ten-inch scar on his forearm. A lady who lives there gave me the info.”
“That’ll help, if we can find him.”
“I tried the Internet. No sign of him on Google or Facebook.”
“We need to get a sketch artist out there to talk to the woman. Any chance of that happening?”
“Could be, but it’ll take some doing. Graven images aren’t popular with the Amish. You’d have to computer age it anyway.”
“It’s not a lot to go on, but it’s way more than we had before. I’ll put out a BOLO with that description, try to locate Mahler as a person of interest.”
“One more thing. His father was a furniture maker. Kid learned the trade. That’s how he got the scar.”
“I’m on it. Thanks, Ethan.” Heath ended the call, and Ethan pulled the car out onto the road.
“You’re convinced it’s him?” Val asked. “The copycat?”
“Yeah. Feels right. Has since I got the e-mail from Sadie this morning.”
“Sadie? She’s a . . . friend?”
He flicked her an amused glance. “Why? You jealous?”
Val sat a little straighter in the seat. “No, of course not.”
Ethan chuckled. “Sadie Gunderson is a fifty-year-old grandmother. She works with me at the office. Believe it or not, she’s a computer genius.”
Val grinned so wide her dimples popped out. Ethan felt the familiar kick and his groin tightened. He clamped down on a rush of lust that wasn’t going anywhere, at least not at the moment. Those damned dimples were going to be the death of him.
“You’re right,” she said. “It’s hard to believe. It’d be more likely Sadie was a ten-year-old kid.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t believe it either if it weren’t for the info the woman comes up with.”
Val relaxed back into her seat. “So what’s our next move?”
“Our?” He shook his head. “Sorry, honey. You’re a hundred miles from Dallas.
That’s as close as you’re getting to this case.
My next move is searching the Internet for stores in the Dallas area that sell handmade furniture.
If that was Jacob Mahler’s trade, there’s a chance that’s what his son is doing for a living.
Heath Ford will be following that angle.
If he comes up empty-handed, I’ll have Sadie take a look. ”
“Heath was the guy on the phone? Your detective friend?”
“That’s right. I’ll let him have a go at it while we’re driving back to the city.”
She leaned forward, tilting her face into the cool air blowing out of the air-conditioning vents. “I’ll be glad when we get there. I turned the A/C down when we left the suite so it would be nice and cool when we got back.”
He flashed her a sideways glance. “Considering how hot I plan to make your luscious little body as soon as I get you upstairs, that was very good thinking.”
Her big blue eyes widened.
“Maybe you ought to take a nap on the way. I promise you won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”
Val made a funny little sound in her throat, and Ethan chuckled. He wondered if she thought he was kidding. He might have to work this new lead for a while. After that, he meant to keep his word.
It was late afternoon when Meg preceded Dirk back into her suite. She’d convinced him to take her and Isabel shopping at the NorthPark Center, home to some of the most exclusive stores in Dallas. Grudgingly, he had agreed.
Unfortunately, as soon as they went into the mall, Dirk began to complain. He didn’t like the limo having to park so far away. It was darker inside the mall than he liked, and more crowded. He wanted to go somewhere else, someplace safer. It took Izzy’s considerable charm to convince him to stay.
“No one even knows we’re here,” Isabel said. “And you’re here to protect us.”
Meg smiled at him sweetly. “We know you can keep us safe.”
Dirk wasn’t fooled for a minute, but clearly he was torn. He wanted to please them, but it was his job to protect them. He was cute when he was frustrated, Meg thought. Of course, he was cute when he was angry and cute when he was being sweet, which he was by taking them to the mall.
Her gaze ran over his masculine carved features, the way his mustache curved down to his hard jaw. Maybe sexy was a better word than cute.
“All right, fine, you can stay,” he reluctantly agreed, as Meg was sure he would. “But you’d better stay close, and if anything happens, you do exactly what I say.” He drilled her with a glare. “Understood?”
“Of course,” she said breezily, because it was true. Dirk wasn’t the kind of man you disobeyed.
Still, the whole time they were shopping, he was moving, constantly on alert, always on the lookout for trouble, which made it hard for Meg to relax. Fortunately, Izzy’s incessant chatter helped keep up her spirits. They deserved to have some fun, whether Dirk Reynolds liked it or not.
Inside the air-conditioned corridors, they continued perusing the mall, darting from one store to the next, shopping until Dirk began to grumble again and even Isabel’s energy was beginning to fade.
Dirk phoned the limo driver and the car was waiting when they reached the exit.
They climbed inside, loaded down with purchases, Izzy with a fantastic Chanel designer handbag and three pairs of Manolo Blahnik shoes.
Meg had found two pairs of Jimmy Choos on sale and bought a sexy, backless little black sheath at Neiman Marcus.
Mostly, she’d purchased kid’s clothes, stuff for little Charlie, including a pair of miniature Burberry jeans lined with red-plaid flannel that were just darling.
As the limo drove back to the hotel, she looked over at Dirk, who lounged on the seat a few feet away. Every time she’d purchased another item for her son, his mood seemed to darken. It made her chest hurt to know how deep his dislike of children ran.
Once they reached the hotel, Dirk escorted both women through the lobby to the elevators, a bellman in their wake carrying their packages.
“Grazie, Dirk,” Isabel said, “for putting up with us this afternoon.” Izzy leaned over and kissed both his cheeks. “Now, I must have my beauty nap. Ciao, darlings. I will see you on the plane.”
“Keep the door locked,” Dirk grumbled as the heavy door slid closed. They headed for Meg’s suite, the bellman following with her packages. Dirk checked the rooms. The bellman set the shopping bags down on the coffee table, walked out, and closed the door, leaving them alone.
Fatigue rolled through her. Meg felt the weight of Dirk’s dark gaze and, knowing the cause, her heart filled with an aching sadness.
“You don’t have to stay,” she said softly. “There’s a guard just down the hall, and aside from Valentine, none of the other girls have full-time bodyguards.”
“You have the day off and so do I. I’d rather spend my time with you.”
It wasn’t true. He was just overly protective, and for some reason those protective instincts had zeroed in on her.
Meg clenched her hands together. “I appreciate your concern, but really, I don’t need—”
One step and he was there, gripping her shoulders, cutting off her words.
“You don’t need what, Meg? I saw the way you were looking at me today.
Every time you bought a gift for your son, you looked at me like you wanted to cry.
I know you feel something for me. More than something.
And I’ve made no secret of the way I feel about you. ”
Her chin went up. “You want to have sex with me. You’re a man. I’m a La Belle model. Of course that’s what you want.”
“Bullshit. I want you, yes. So bad I ache with it. But it’s more than that, and I think it’s more for you, too. Just because you have a child doesn’t mean you can’t have a man in your life.”
“You aren’t just any man, Dirk. You’re wild and you’re fierce. For heaven’s sake, you’ve got tattoos! You carry a pistol and ride around on a Harley. You’re not the kind of man who can settle down and raise a child!”
His jaw hardened. “That coming from a woman who’s traveling around the country flashing her mostly naked body in front of a million sex-starved men.”
She jerked a hand back to slap him, but Dirk didn’t give her the chance, just caught her wrist and hauled her into his arms, and his mouth slanted down over hers. Heat tore through her, and a need so fierce it made her dizzy.
Her knees went weak and her pulse shot into the triple digits. Dirk just kept kissing her, first one way and then another, soft kisses, gentle and coaxing, then hot, hard, and demanding.
Meg moaned into his mouth and gripped his hard-muscled shoulders, her body on fire for him.
“You want me,” Dirk whispered softly. “Admit it.” He kissed her again before she could deny it. “Tell me you want me the way I want you.”
She looked up at him and her throat tightened. It could never work and both of them knew it. “I want you. You know I do.”
“Yes, I do. And for both our sakes, I’m not waiting any longer.
” Forcing her back till she came up against the wall, he lifted her off her feet and wrapped her long legs around his waist, pushing her pencil skirt up around her middle.
Dirk found her sex and stroked her through the tiny strip of satin between her legs.
She was wet and ready, aching for him to take her.
“I’ve only just found you,” he said, pressing his mouth against the side of her neck. “I’m not letting you go.” She heard the buzz of his zipper. Then he was sliding inside, driving deep, giving her what she so desperately wanted.
She cried out as he took her, her body responding, climbing toward the peak, then bursting free. Her head dropped forward onto his shoulder as she rode out the wave, then came again.
She was crying when he set her on her feet, filled with emotions she didn’t understand and didn’t dare examine. Kissing the top of her head, Dirk left her to dispose of the condom she hadn’t known he’d used.
“Don’t cry,” he said, easing her back into his arms, kissing the tears from her cheeks. “It’s going to be all right. I promise.”
But there was no way he could keep his word. He was wild and free, exactly the way he should be. She looked down at the tattoo of a dragon curling around his shoulder, climbing the side of his neck.
It wouldn’t work. And yet when he carried her to bed and started kissing her again, she didn’t try to stop him.
Where Dirk Reynolds was concerned, she didn’t have the will to say no.
The afternoon was over and Val was back in her suite. Sitting on the sofa in front of her laptop, she went over some of the study questions for the veterinary tech online surgical prep course she was taking, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate.
Watching Ethan at work on his computer, she felt as if she needed to do something to help him, something besides sitting there being protected, being a liability instead of an asset.
She fidgeted on the sofa, her gaze returning to where he sat at the dining table, head bent over his computer.
She was mad for him—she couldn’t deny it.
The man was sex and virility personified.
She kept thinking about last night, remembering what it was like to have him make love to her.
She wanted more, wanted him to take her back to bed.
Which, by his occasional hot glances, she knew he would be more than willing to do if he weren’t trying to catch a killer.
With a sigh, she gave up and turned off her laptop, found herself watching him again. He was searching the Internet for information on Byron Mahler, digging around for something, anything that would help the police find him.
Just the way the muscles across his shoulders tightened beneath his T-shirt made her feel hot and needy. It was embarrassing.
He sat back in his chair and blew out a frustrated breath. At the sound of his cell phone chiming, he dug it out of his jeans and pressed it against his ear. Val could only hear half the conversation, but from what she picked up, she figured it was his friend, Detective Ford.
“So you found him,” Ethan said. Cell in hand, he stood and paced over to the window, looked down at the traffic moving along the street below. “Exactly. Now all we have to do is figure out where he’s gone. All right, yeah. Keep me posted.” He ended the call and started walking back across the room.
“Was it Ford?”
“Yeah. They located Byron Mahler’s place of employment. Store just north of Dallas, sells Amish furniture.”
“Just like you thought. I take it he wasn’t there.”
“No.”
“That’s not good news. Still, I’m impressed. You’ve been ahead of this every step of the way.”
His mouth edged up. “I’ve been at it a while. The thing is, Mahler’s in the wind. He hasn’t shown up at work for the last three days.”
She stood up from the sofa and walked toward him. “Are they sure Mahler’s the man who killed Mandy Gee?”
“It’s him. Store manager gave them his address.
Mahler’s packed up and gone, but the cops got fingerprints that match the ones found at the crime scene.
They’ll send a sketch artist out to talk to the store owner, get a decent description.
Mahler’s our guy, but there’s no way to know where he might be headed. ”
Worry slipped through her. “You don’t . . . you don’t think he’ll follow the show to Atlanta?”
“My gut says he might. Which means we can’t afford to take chances.”
“But you don’t think this is the man who killed Delilah. So we have to worry about him, too.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You don’t have to worry about anything but doing your job, baby. I’m the one getting paid to worry.”