Trigger Effect Read online

  “I didn’t want you with me.”

  He blinked. Expelled a slow breath. “Why?”

  “Because I had a hunch I’d find out more about Kidd. Bad stuff. I wasn’t sure, and if I was wrong…” She shook her head. “No use telling you until I knew.”

  “You don’t need to protect me, Carmichael,” he said, a muscle tightening in his jaw. “We got the DNA results back on the floss found with Lauren Gillette’s body. The saliva’s Kidd’s. He killed her. He has to face that.” McCall closed his eyes. “I’m going to see his wife in a couple of hours. Find out what I can do for Ashley.”

  “You’ve got a good heart, McCall.”

  He rose, came around the desk and settled into the chair beside her. “So, did your hunch play out?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The night we came by here and it was so hot, I saw Kidd’s handwriting. You and I talked about the fact he’d written the assignment that had raised so many red flags in my mind. Right when we were leaving, I spotted movement out by the door. But when I stepped into the squad room, no one was there. We’d both gotten spooked earlier outside the Gillette mansion, so I wrote it off as delayed reaction. Now, I’m almost sure Kidd was here, that he overheard me telling you I was so curious about his assignment that I’d recreated it on my laptop. That I’d spotted areas of deception. And that I could tell he’d been with someone on Sunday morning, just by his change in verb tense.”

  “What makes you think Kidd overheard us?”

  “Tonight at Midnight when he and I faced off on the lawn, he told me there’s no way I can prove a person was alone, or with someone just because his verb tense changed.”

  “Okay.” McCall’s brow furrowed. “Keep going.”

  “During my second interview with Kidd, he said, ‘I hope to hell Isaac shows up here.’ Shows up—future tense. You and I have been operating under the assumption Isaac has been here all along. Kidd knew that. He helped follow me to make sure Isaac wasn’t tailing me. Kidd’s language tells me he never believed Isaac was here. He still doesn’t believe that.”

  McCall nodded, his face grim. “Go on.”

  “So, if Kidd did overhear us talking about the assignment he wrote, he would have realized the threat of exposure didn’t end when he stole the original assignments. And that threat—namely me—had to be eliminated. The following night I almost was.”

  Awareness snapped into McCall’s eyes. “The lake? You think Kidd drove that truck?”

  “Yes. Which is why I went to Low Track tonight. Remember I said when Aphrodite called and lured me out to the lake road that in the background I heard dishes rattling?”

  “Which was on target, since we got the number from your cell service provider and traced it to a diner on the south side.”

  “I also heard several pops in the background. Tonight when I started suspecting Kidd drove that monster truck, it dawned on me that the blond hooker who I talked to about Isaac was chewing gum. Blowing bubbles, popping them. Tia Alvarado works Vice. That’s why I asked her to go to Low Track with me. I figured if the blonde wasn’t on a corner somewhere, Tia would know where to find her. She did.”

  “Did the hooker admit making the call for Kidd?”

  “She denied it. Which convinces me she’s who called me.”

  McCall raised a brow. “Statement analysis, right?”

  “Yes. The word ‘deny’ can mean to refuse to accept the truth.” She raised a palm. “Like when an alcoholic won’t admit to being one. We say he’s in denial. He refuses to accept the fact he’s an alcoholic. The hooker could be saying she refuses to accept the fact she called me.”

  “That doesn’t prove she did. Or that Kidd drove the truck.”

  “I know. Tia touched base with some other Vice cops. A couple of them remembered that when Kidd rode patrol, he used the blonde as a snitch. All that’s enough of a tie for me.”

  “Yeah.” McCall reached, took her hand, stroked a fingertip across the abrasion the handcuff had left on her wrist. “If Kidd is who’s made every run at you up to this point, where’s Isaac?”

  “Good question. Maybe in Egypt or Turkey where his e-mails originated from? I’ve been totally off base when it comes to analyzing his language. That would be a huge ego builder for Isaac if he knew.”

  “You weren’t wrong about his threatening your family.”

  “No. I called Holden Lassiter about an hour ago. He’s keeping the security in place around my family until Isaac’s in custody.”

  She turned her hand under McCall’s, linked her fingers with his. “So, partner, we’re done with the Gillette case until it goes to trial. Now, I have to focus on finding Isaac.”

  “You going to do that focusing from here?”

  “No.”

  “You told me you won’t go to Dallas as long as Isaac’s on the lam. That you want him zeroed in on you, not your family.”

  “I’m not going to Dallas. My ex-partner is meeting me halfway between here and there. He’s bringing all the reports, interviews, every piece of paper we accumulated on Isaac. We tracked him down once. Maybe by poring over all the information, we’ll find some reference to something that might help us get a lead on his location.”

  “Doing that makes sense.” McCall’s hand tightened on hers. “When do you leave?”

  “After I pick up my things from the Ambassador Arms.”

  “You need a ride there?”

  “No. Tia dropped me off at the airport and I rented a car. I called the hotel and asked them to get my bill ready.” She stared down at their joined hands. “I wanted to tell you what I found out about the hooker. And say goodbye.”

  She’d had no idea doing so would put knots in her stomach. Feeling suddenly unsteady, she tugged her hand free, rose, then moved across the office and plucked her coat off the hook.

  “That’s it? Just goodbye?”

  She turned. McCall had come up behind her. She shrugged on her coat. “C’mon, McCall, you weren’t exactly thrilled when the chief dumped me on you.”

  “True.” He angled his chin. “Where’s the phone you bought to replace the one that went into the lake?”

  “In my coat pocket.” She gave him a wary look. “Why?”

  “Mind if I take a look at it?”

  She pulled the phone out, handed it to him. It beeped while he stabbed a series of buttons. “McCall, what are you doing?”

  “Inputting my home, office and cell numbers into memory.”

  “I take it you’re expecting me to call?”

  He leveled her with his earnest expression. “I’m hoping you’ll do more than that.”

  “Like what?”

  He handed her the phone, then moved in, shifting her back into the corner between the wall and the door. “You have business to take care of. Your family to see to, I understand that.” He curled a finger under her chin, nudged it up. “But when all that’s done, I want you to come back. Or I’ll come to you. Just call and let me know which it’ll be.”

  “One phone call,” she said. “You make things sound so simple.”

  “I don’t mean to,” he murmured, lowering his head. “Because then what’s between us would be only sex.”

  She swallowed hard, surprised at his allusion to something more. His ability to make a clean escape was one reason he’d earned the Houdini nickname. “What is it, then, if it’s not just sex?”

  “I don’t know exactly, but it’s something. I do know I want you in a way I’ve never wanted anyone else. I know I don’t want you to leave.”

  She stared at him, feeling panic unfurl inside her. Her heart had been broken once by a man with a charmer’s grin and seductive touch. She wasn’t sure if she could risk so much again. “This is serious talk for so early in the morning.”

  “It’s serious talk for me, any time of day.” He slid an arm around her waist, pulled her against him. “Don’t back off from me because you’re afraid.”

  “I’m not afrai
d of you, McCall.”

  “Carmichael, I’m not calling you a coward. If you were any tougher, bullets would bounce off you. But you are afraid of taking a chance on me.” His fingertips brushed her cheek, her throat. “I’m not like the jerk who betrayed you. I won’t lie to you. Ever. Deep down I think you know that.”

  She stared up into his dark eyes. Every step of the way he had let her know exactly what he thought, exactly where she stood with him. Nate McCall was not a man who hid behind lies. She pressed her palm against his cheek. “I know.”

  He opened her mouth with his, touched his tongue to hers.

  “I want a chance to see where this goes,” he murmured against her lips. “So, you think about this, Carmichael. Call me, if you decide you want that chance, too.”

  “Okay, I’ll think,” she agreed. Then stepped around him and reached for the door before she talked herself into staying.

  When Paige parked in the underground garage at the Ambassador Arms Hotel, her mind was still on that kiss—and the man who’d delivered it.

  The air was freezing cold as she walked toward the elevator beneath bright overhead lights. The heels of her black ankle boots echoed hollowly against the concrete.

  A few feet ahead, she saw a gray-haired woman step out from between a van and a Mercedes. She was tall and thin, wearing an ankle-length mink and black lizard pumps. As Paige came abreast of her, the woman paused to rummage in her leather handbag, its long strap hanging down.

  “Oh, dear,” the woman murmured as the purse slipped from her hands. A gold compact, a billfold, a hairbrush and a tube of lipstick tumbled out, the lipstick rolling.

  The instant Paige stooped to pick it up, a warning blipped in her brain.

  Even as she reached for the asp secreted in the heel of her left boot, a current seared through her neck, stormed along her nerve pathways. In a fraction of a second all control of her arms and legs was gone.

  She fell, landing on her side, her breathing labored, her eyes open.

  The woman bent down close. “Got you.”

  The polite voice belonged to Edwin Isaac.

  Chapter 23

  Paige had a vague memory of Isaac lifting her, dumping her into a car’s trunk, then stabbing a needle into her arm.

  She’d come to still wearing the black leather dress, lying on a red heart-shaped rug in the center of a cement-walled windowless room. A single bare lightbulb hung above her. Across the room, a set of wooden stairs shot straight up to a gray metal door. The cement walls, the scent of earth and dank stone told her she was in a basement.

  Now, the effects of the stun gun and the drug had dissipated. She was fully alert, her mind racing on the heady fuel of fear.

  Footsteps creaked overhead, pulling her gaze upward. Wherever she was had wooden floors. During his Dallas killing spree, Isaac had imprisoned his hooker victims in an old farmhouse he’d purchased under an alias on the outskirts of the city. He had stapled thick insulation against every wall, window and door, soundproofing the place so anyone happening by couldn’t hear the screams.

  It had been his lair, the ultimate torture chamber.

  Now, he had another. Paige’s stomach muscles began to tremble.

  Don’t panic. Think. Think.

  He’d taken her boots, her watch, her silver necklace. A wide metal cuff was locked around her left ankle. A short chain connected the cuff to a thick bolt in the cement floor. Like a dog chained to a stake, she could move only so far.

  She hadn’t seen Isaac since she’d woken in the basement. She had no doubt he would show up soon.

  Paige closed her eyes. Terror was a living thing, wrapping its fingers around her throat.

  She had no idea how much time had passed since he’d grabbed her. No clue how far he’d driven her away from the city. Did anyone know she was missing? She’d agreed to meet her ex-partner before noon so they could start poring over their case files on Isaac. Was it past noon? If so, was he worried yet? Or still waiting, unconcerned by her absence, thinking she’d been delayed tying up loose ends with McCall? Oh, God, Nate. She’d told him goodbye, walked away. There was no reason for him to think she hadn’t left as planned.

  She thought of the five women Isaac had killed, whose autopsies she had attended. The vicious cuts and charring that had marked their flesh. The gaudy makeup Isaac applied to their faces after death. And how, during interrogation, his blue eyes had gleamed like icy diamonds while he recounted watching every scalpel slash each victim made to her own flesh.

  The shimmer of a small stainless steel tray sitting just beyond the edge of the rug drew Paige’s gaze. A scalpel lay in the tray’s center. Isaac had left the tray, the scalpel within her reach.

  A trickle of sweat rolled down her spine. There had to be a way out. Some way to fight back.

  The floor above her creaked again, footsteps growing louder. Coming for her.

  Okay, she thought, her breathing shallow. Her survival was in her own hands. She knew Isaac’s MO—he used fear to control his victims, turn them weak. Malleable. Which were the last traits he would expect her to exhibit. Still, making him believe she was cowering, terrified, was the only chance she had of getting him to let his guard down.

  The door opened. The stairs groaned beneath his weight.

  Outwardly trembling, her head bowed, she watched him through her lashes. She saw his legs first, clad in black slacks. And then he was in full view, standing at the base of the stairs, watching her.

  The killer, eyeing his new prize.

  Three years in prison had not outwardly changed him. He was as tall as she remembered, his hair still thick and blond, combed back from the temples. She sensed there were well-toned muscles beneath his gray silk shirt.

  “Hello, Paige.”

  Cold fear sliced straight to the marrow of her bones. She wasn’t going to have to use her acting skills in that area.

  “I…” She lifted a trembling hand to her face. “What drug did…you…give me?”

  Through her fingers, she saw the vivid blue flash of his eyes. “One that will have worn off by now. Don’t toy with me, Paige.”

  “Dizzy…”

  He had a long metal box in his hands. She tracked him to a table against the far wall. Watched him unwind a cord attached to the box, plug it in. His wrist flicked as he turned a knob on the front of the box. A hot plate, she realized.

  He retrieved a green plastic lawn chair, carried it toward her. Beneath the bright light his skin looked like parchment, stretched taut over the bones of his face. Like a skull, she thought.

  He placed the chair out of her reach. Settled into it. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Paige.”

  Polite. Always so polite.

  She shook her head as if trying to clear her drugged mind. Her hair curtained over one cheek. She left it there, proof she was too muddled to notice.

  He angled his chin, regarded her. “The drug’s manufacturer did list possible side effects.” When he pursed his lips, he looked like a leech. “Apparently your chemical makeup is more susceptible than I anticipated. So, we’ll wait to get started. In the meantime, would you like to know how I found you?”

  “You…had some voyeur…watching me.” She slurred her words, let her body sway. “Take my…picture. You’ve been in a cell. Have…to figure…the information got to you through your…lawyer.”

  “Whose briefcase was subject to being x-rayed for weapons, but not to a hands-on search of lawyer-client documents when he came to consult with me. Very good, Paige. And, yes, I’ve made it my business over the past three years to learn everything about you.”

  His gaze dropped to her scarred right hand, lying limply against her thigh. “I know about your husband’s betrayal, the physical therapy that failed, your resignation from the police force. Then there’s your new profession, working for a boss who’s a former CIA operative. After what your husband did, I imagine you have quite an aversion to lies.”

  “Don’t…you?”

  “
Of course. And through statement analysis you’ve ensured you can’t be lied to. Tell me, Paige, did you find any lies in the e-mails I sent you?”

  “No. ’Cause you…never said you were…in those places. Egypt. Turkey.”

  “You’re right, I wasn’t there. I’ve been here, watching you.”

  “You and…your accomplice. Who’s…he?”

  Isaac picked lint off one of his shirt cuffs. “The gentleman was a private investigator in Dallas. Rather questionable in character, but immensely controllable. He outlived his usefulness soon after he helped me escape. I do so prefer observing you myself.”

  “How have…?” She shook her head.

  “…I observed you?” Isaac finished. “Various ways. One being I have access to all your bank and credit card accounts. The instant you rented a car here I knew its description. Also, the name of the hotel you checked into. That first night, I placed a GPS chip on your car. I’ve tracked you via satellite from that moment. Doing so enabled me to keep tabs on you while I located this lovely house, then did the necessary renovations to prepare for your arrival.”

  He leaned forward, the chair creaking beneath his weight. “Paige, the night your car went into the lake was one of the worst moments of my life. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

  She was glad her hair still hung in her face so he couldn’t see her surprise. “That was…you…in the…car? Stopped…where…mine went into…lake?”

  “Ah, so you were watching me.” He flashed a smile, a thin rim of white teeth. “Yes, I drove to where the GPS signal ended. I had planned for us to begin our time together that night. When I theorized what must have happened to your car, to you, I experienced a deep grief.”

  “How did…you know…I wasn’t dead?”

  “A greedy bellman at the Ambassador Arms. I had previously given him your description and he supplied me the name you registered under. Fiona Shepherd. The bellman called this morning to tell me you’d phoned and left word you were checking out. You can’t imagine the joy I experienced, knowing you were still alive.”