Serial Escape Page 6

  “Bought it,” he confirmed.

  “The...house?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But...why?”

  His uncharacteristic sheepishness grew, and he lifted his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it like he could rid himself of the visible embarrassment that way, and then he gave his right ear a quick tug. “The PD were decommissioning it as a safe house. Said they might demolish it.”

  A little stab of sentimental anxiety poked at Raven’s gut. What if they had demolished it? She hated the idea. As much as she wanted to close off everything that had to do with Georges Hanes, she wanted to hold on to the only good thing to come out of it all. Meeting Lucien. Even if he didn’t share her feelings, she could never regret knowing him. Tearing down the house would’ve been almost devastating.

  Yeah, okay. So you hate the thought of a demolition, said a voice in her head. But Lucien isn’t exactly the nostalgic type.

  But studying him at that moment, Raven might’ve argued otherwise. The way he shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. How his eyes darted around the room like he was trying not to look. The stilted explanation about the fact that he didn’t actually live there, but just held on to the property for the future. And that eat tug. But still. It didn’t add up to what she knew about him. And it certainly didn’t match up with the man who’d broken off their first-ever, could’ve-been-perfect kiss with an apology. Which brought her back to the plan.

  She exhaled and straightened her shoulders. “I want you to take me home.”

  It was his turn to look startled. “What?”

  “Home,” she repeated. “If I remember correctly, you can’t keep me in the safe house against my will. And since this isn’t even a safe house...”

  She waited for him to argue. To point out that Georges Hanes knew exactly where she lived, and it would be that much easier to find her. And she steeled herself to argue back. To tell him that the first time around, she’d been told it was her choice whether or not she left herself exposed. But instead of fighting with her about it, Lucien just shifted a little, then spoke in a stiff voice.

  “I would never keep you anywhere against your will, Raven. You know that.”

  “A little reminder doesn’t hurt.”

  But for a second it did seem to hurt. He flinched, and for a moment she thought he might argue. Instead, he just nodded.

  “I’d like your permission to place a watch on your house,” he said, his voice only marginally stiffer than usual.

  She nodded, too. “Yes. Okay. But outside. And I think it should be someone else who does it.”

  Lucien’s jaw tightened. “Did I fail you the last time?”

  The question made Raven blink. “Fail me?”

  “Did I let Hanes get to you? Make you feel unsafe? Do anything that would lead you to believe that I’m not the best person for the job?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “Do you think I’d do it now?”

  “No. This isn’t about you.”

  His chin was so stiff it looked like it might crack. “If it’s about what happened out there a few minutes ago, I promise you it won’t happen again.”

  Raven fought against a sudden ache in her throat. She wished she could tell him she wanted the opposite, and that his guarantee of no repeats was the very thing that made her need the space she was asking for.

  Self-control and self-respect, she reminded herself fiercely.

  Aloud, she said, “I’d be more comfortable knowing that you weren’t sitting outside my house.”

  It was true. Though probably not in the way it sounded. Lucien’s thumb flicked once against his thigh, lifted to his ear, then stopped.

  He nodded again. “All right. Any objections to me driving you home?”

  Raven shook her head, mostly because she didn’t really trust herself to speak.

  * * *

  Lucien’s jaw ached from keeping it rigid. His shoulders and back were starting to hurt, too. Every bit of his body was tense with a need to speak. A desire to apologize again, and to ask Raven to forgive his shortcomings. He knew he was a complete idiot for not declaring his feelings and letting things fall where they might. If ever there’d been a moment to do it, then this was it. In fact, the last few hours had been nothing but perfect moments for a heartfelt outburst.

  When she’d turned and run into him at the cemetery, it would’ve been a good opportunity.

  Or the kiss. Instead of saying sorry, he could’ve gone with three other little words.

  Chasing after her might’ve been an option. Taking her in his arms. Kissing away the tears instead of letting her wash them off as he knew she’d done.

  Even after that. When he’d told her he bought the safe house, he could’ve admitted that it was because the place was tied up with his memories of her. She’d somehow turned the generic environment into something meaningful. Something he couldn’t let go of.

  At any of those points, he could’ve told her. He could’ve suggested recusing himself from the case, if that’s what it took. Yet Lucien had let each one of the moments pass by.

  There’s right now.

  Just the two of them in the quiet of his car. On the precipice of losing her for good. Nowhere for either of them to go.

  He couldn’t do it. His mouth remained stiff, the words sticking in his brain. Further proof that he wasn’t the right man for this particular job. As soon as he had the thought, he cringed. Raven was so much more than a job. And that right there was the problem. He couldn’t make himself see her as work. It took away his ability to think critically, and more important, weakened his objectivity. In Lucien’s mind, those things were the biggest elements of working effectively in law enforcement. Having them compromised was no good. Which is why her asking him to leave was actually a positive thing. Or it should’ve been. In actuality, it just stung.

  Was he really going to let her go all over again? The idea made his throat tighten.

  He wouldn’t just walk cleanly away. Sure, he’d obey her wishes and have a couple of experienced, trustworthy uniforms set up on her block rather than sitting there himself. He’d already placed the call and requested specific officers. But he had to ensure that Georges Hanes was behind bars again for good, and there was no chance he’d allow that to go to someone else. Raven might not be his—not the way he wanted—but he would never, ever leave her unprotected.

  He sneaked a glance toward her. She was buckled tightly into the passenger seat, her already-diminutive frame looking even more petite in his oversize SUV. Her eyes were closed. Lucien knew she wasn’t asleep, or even close to it. The pinch of her forehead gave her away, as did the clench of her fingers on the nylon seat belt.

  You deserve more than I can give, he thought for what had to be the millionth time.

  He forced his gaze back to the front windshield, but he no sooner swiveled his head than she spoke, her voice drawing him back for another second. Her eyes were open now, the frown on her forehead even more pronounced.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said.

  It was the first thing she’d said since giving him her new address, and the abruptness of it echoed heavily in the otherwise silent car.

  Nothing good ever comes of a question like that, Lucien thought, looking away before answering in a carefully neutral tone. “Sure. Ask away.”

  “What do you think Hanes’s message meant?”

  The inquiry surprised him. Not because Raven wasn’t well aware of the details of the first Hanes case, but simply because it was work related. And—even though he knew it wasn’t fair—it dug at him a little. His own tumble of emotions was so close to the surface that he’d really expected something personal.

  He squeezed the steering wheel, redirected his thoughts and made himself answer casually. “What message?”

  “The one at the Jim and Juani
ta’s place.”

  “Sergeant told me there was no note.”

  Her swallow was audible, and her voice quavered as she said, “I know you know what I mean, Lucien. The message in the blood. About owing a life and taking one.”

  He considered downplaying it a bit more, but realized he would be doing Raven a disservice if he lied to her.

  “I do think it could be from Hanes,” Lucien admitted, flicking on his signal and turning up the street that would lead to her new neighborhood.

  “But?” she prodded.

  “It doesn’t fully fit with his usual style. Hanes was always subtle. He thought of his little notes as clever games, didn’t he? Trying to see if the police could outsmart him.”

  “Yes.” The word cracked a little as Raven said it, and her next statement was tinged with sorrow. “Only the loser in Hanes’s game winds up dead.”

  Lucien cursed himself again, this time for his obtuseness. He knew better than anyone what she’d lost. Who she’d lost. Every member of her family had died at Hanes’s hands, and there was nothing gamelike about it on her end.

  “Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Didn’t mean to come across like I’m taking this lightly, Raven.”

  “I know you didn’t. And I know you aren’t, too.” The reply sounded tight, though, and a glance her way told him that her eyes were fixed out the front windshield. Her hands twisted in her lap, and she spoke again, this time with audible edginess. “What do you think it means?”

  “I haven’t stopped to think about it.” It was a true statement, but he didn’t bother to say that his lack of thought was directly linked to the fact that he didn’t want to think about it, and instead added, “The task force is working on decoding it as we speak.”

  Raven, though, wasn’t ready to let it go so easily. “He meant me, didn’t he?”

  “We don’t know that,” Lucien told her firmly.

  “He said, ‘You owe me a life. So I’ll take more, until you give me yours.’ Or something close to that. It’s my life he wants. Because I’m the one who got away from him.”

  “Not a forgone conclusion. Even if Hanes had ever gone for literal with his messages, that doesn’t change the fact that he never gave any indication that he was going to come after you again. Not once the entire time he was in custody.”

  She swallowed. “No. That’s true. He seemed...happy...that someone had cracked the clue and saved me.”

  “Because that was his goal. He said as much during his final testimony.”

  Lucien wished he didn’t remember it quite as well as he did. The way Hanes smiled when he talked about a worthy adversary. Even now, the memory was a teeth-gritting one.

  “But he’s had three years to think about it,” Raven pointed out. “He could’ve changed his mind. Or come up with a new game, or—”

  She cut herself off in a strangled gasp, and for a moment Lucien thought it was a physical problem. He started to reach out, a question on his lips. As his head turned toward her, though, something outside caught his eye. He realized immediately that it was the source of her distress.

  Just up the street was a small row of town houses. Maybe twenty units, at most. A three-foot fence, painted a brilliant white, lined the edge of the tidy property. Each of the units had its own gate and path. Atop the one just in front of until number six—Raven’s unit—sat three bouquets of flowers. That by itself would’ve been odd. But what shifted the scene from strange to disturbing was that Lucien was certain that the bouquets were the same ones that had been sitting at the gravesites of Raven’s family.

  Chapter 6

  Raven’s eyes whipped around in futile search of the person who’d placed the flowers there. Who’d moved them from the cemetery to her house. Who knew where she lived.

  Who? That’s not a question without an answer, said her subconscious. Georges Hanes.

  Her vision swam, and so did her head.

  Any and all thoughts of separating herself from Lucien’s company flew away. Instead of being a source of stress, he was suddenly the only thing keeping her sane. Just like he had been, three years ago.

  “Lucien. Those flowers...” Her throat closed, and she couldn’t manage anything else.

  His hand came out to clasp hers, and even though the reassuring squeeze was brief, just the simple touch eased the blockage in her airway.

  “I see them,” he said.

  “What do we do?”

  “We stay calm. We pull over just up ahead, and we wait for the four officers I called in to get here. It should be anytime now.”

  For a second, his words distracted her. “Four officers?”

  “No risks, Raven.” His tone was grim. “I’m not willing to let Hanes have even a ghost of a chance of getting through our defenses. If I’m not behind the lines, then I want a visible wall.”

  In spite of the way she told herself not to, she warmed at little at his protectiveness. She also started to point out that he was one man, and he’d done the job himself, but two police cruisers rounded the block just then, stilling her words. Lucien waved to them from behind the wheel, and one pulled over while the other drove up alongside his SUV. The officer in the driver’s seat rolled down her window, and Lucien did the same.

  “Afternoon, Detective,” said the woman. “Everything okay?”

  “Not exactly,” Lucien replied. “It’s Constable Davies, right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, Constable Davies, there’s been a slight change of plans.”

  Raven listened as he first explained about the flowers, then gave instructions on approaching the house. She handed over the keys and recited the alarm code when asked, but guilt dug at her when she realized he was passing off what should’ve been his job. He was the senior officer. The person with the most inside knowledge about the case. Yet he was stuck in the car acting as a glorified babysitter. But she couldn’t make herself protest as the other three uniformed officers got out and joined Davies so they could do their thing. She didn’t open her mouth as he called his boss and reiterated the story, then posited her theory about the note written in blood. It was selfish, but she wanted Lucien by her side.

  “Doing okay over there?” he asked as he hung up the phone.

  Raven forced a nod and fixed her gaze out the window, watching as the police made their way up her front walk. “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t worry about them,” he said, clearly misreading the source of her anxiety. “If this is Hanes, I don’t think he’d deliberately put up a warning, then sit in your house waiting for you to waltz in.”

  “No, I guess not.” She sighed without any real relief. “He likes that game of his too much.”

  Lucien’s hand came back to hers again, and this time it stayed. “I’m not going to give him any time to enjoy it.”

  Raven didn’t say anything back. In spite of the conviction behind his statement, she was desperately afraid that he was wrong. She had a dozen arguments. But she worried that if she voiced them, he might let her go. And she wanted to hold on to him as long as possible. Thankfully, his warm fingers remained clasped around hers for the entire time it took the other police officers to conduct their search. She didn’t even care that his touch was just a platonic offer of comfort. For the moment, she’d take what she could get.

  But when the female officer—Constable Davies—appeared at her front door and gave an all-clear sign before she started their way, and Lucien finally slipped his hand free, Raven felt the separation acutely. And belatedly, she realized she’d made a mistake. She didn’t want someone else as her bodyguard. At all.

  She turned to him, her face warm, and blurted, “Please don’t leave.”

  He blinked like he had no idea what she was talking about. “Leave?”

  “Me.” Her cheeks burned even more. “Stay until Hanes is caught again. Please.”

&n
bsp; “I have no intention of going anywhere.” He said it almost fervently, and then he startled her by reaching out to touch her heated skin with the back of his hand.

  Raven was too stunned by the near caress to react quickly. It wasn’t that Lucien never extended sympathy or kindness. In fact, he always did. But before she could recover from the surprise, Constable Davies was tapping on the driver’s-side window, and Lucien was redirecting his attention to rolling it down.

  “Sir,” greeted the uniformed woman.

  “Constable,” said Lucien. “What’s the report?”

  “The house appears undisturbed. All points of entry were sealed, the alarm intact. No footprints anywhere along the perimeter, and even if the perp somehow ghosted inside, nothing looks to have been overtly tampered with.” She paused, and her eyes just barely flicked to Raven before settling back on Lucien. “Detective?”

  “You can say whatever needs to be said in front of Ms. Elliot,” he replied.

  Davies still seemed hesitant. “It truly appears that whoever left those flowers didn’t come inside.”

  “But?” Lucien prodded.

  “Just a small thing.” The other woman looked toward Raven. “There’s a frosted window around the back on the second floor. You leave that open a crack, Ms. Elliot?”

  Raven nodded. “My en suite. Yes, I usually leave it open. Why?”

  “Ever leave something hanging from the frame?” Davies wanted to know.

  Raven frowned. “No.”

  Lucien cut in. “Whatever it is, Constable, spit it out.”

  “My partner, Constable Whitmore saw something sparkling up there when we were examining the perimeter. Didn’t think much of it, but when we went inside, it caught my eye, too. Found a tiny piece of gold taped to a piece of fishing line, and I thought...” Davies trailed off.

  But she didn’t have to finish. Raven knew exactly what had gone through the other woman’s mind.

  “You thought of me,” she said, meeting the policewoman’s eyes.

  Davies nodded, her expression apologetic. “I was a rookie when the Kitsilano Killer case broke. Came through training with the guy who ticketed Hanes on the jaywalking, actually. And I followed the whole thing closely. So I know that the gold mine and the fishing line fit.”