Virginia Vaughan - Killer Insight

“I should go now,” he said, standing. “It’s getting late and Meghan will be waiting for me.”

He didn’t want to go or leave Lucy, and that bothered him too. He’d grown protective of her in a short time, but he had responsibilities to his daughter too.

“Good night,” he said as he walked out.

He had to keep his emotions under control. Lucy was only here to do a job. Prove his brother innocent—and Bryce wasn’t going to do anything that would jeopardize that.

Lucy yawned and decided to call it a night. She stacked up the files and placed them back into the boxes, wishing she’d asked Bryce to carry them upstairs for her. She could at least take a few files in case she couldn’t sleep, so she wouldn’t have to come back downstairs and disturb Mrs. Ferguson.

The older lady stopped her before she went upstairs. “Is Bryce gone? I was going to offer him some of this lasagna we had for supper to take home to Meghan.”

“I’m sure he’ll be sorry. He just left. It was delicious, by the way. You shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.”

“Nonsense. Why do you think I opened this bed-and-breakfast? I enjoy taking care of people. I’ll put the remainder in the refrigerator in case you want some more later.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson, but I think this day is catching up to me. I’m going to take a shower then turn in for the night.”

“Rest well, Lucy. I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen then turn in myself. See you in the morning.”

Lucy walked upstairs. She was tired through and through, but at least today she felt like she’d accomplished something. The flower shop was more than likely a dead end for information about the threatening note, but learning more about the murdered women had helped her get a grip on what was going on in this town.

She knew now why Bryce had reached out to her. It was obvious the police were focusing all their attention on his brother because of his relationship with the missing girl, but after examining all the evidence, she couldn’t find anything to link her disappearance with the murdered women.

She was glad she was here. She was glad to still be able to help people by identifying a killer and aiding in bringing safety back to a community. So kids like Meghan didn’t have to be afraid to go out with her friends.

Why was she thinking about Meghan? Sure, it was for the girl’s sake, but she felt it had more to do with Meghan’s blue-eyed, former marine father and the way his touch had sent sparks through her. But how would Bryce Tippitt feel if her profile didn’t exonerate his brother as the killer? If it gave the local police more leverage against him? She couldn’t worry about that. Her job was to create a behavioral profile based on the evidence collected from each of the crime scenes and victim etiology. And she was good at her job. Or she had been before Danny anyway, before her confidence had taken a nosedive. She couldn’t let someone else, another man no less, disrupt her concentration because she was mildly attracted to his broad shoulders and warm smile.

Stop it , she told herself. She couldn’t go there. Romance was out of the question. She didn’t deserve a second chance at love, and she wasn’t going to risk it again. She took a shower and changed into a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt to sleep in.

Suddenly, a large crash from downstairs caught her attention.

Lucy grabbed her gun from the nightstand and hurried downstairs. She called out to Mrs. Ferguson. “Is everything all right?”

No answer. Not even the hum of the woman as she cleaned the dishes.

Lucy walked down the steps. The first night she’d arrived, before her run, the house had been filled with the sounds of Mrs. Ferguson humming as she did the dishes. Tonight, everything was quiet.

Lucy glanced at her watch. Mrs. Ferguson told her she was usually in her chair in front of the TV by this time every night. The television was still off. “Mrs. Ferguson? Is everything all right?”

She had a growing suspicion it was not. Her instincts were kicking in, but she tried to tell herself she was just hyperaware after being abducted, yet she couldn’t shake off the eerie feeling that something wasn’t right. How would she even know what was right or wrong in this house? It was only her second night here.

She approached the kitchen, hoping and praying she would push open the door to find Mrs. Ferguson humming quietly as she handwashed the dishes. No sense using the dishwasher, she’d said, for only two people.

She pushed open the door to the kitchen. It was empty. Hairs were standing up on her neck, a sign that something was seriously wrong. A flash at the window had her spinning around. Someone was there. Outside. She rushed to the door and down the back stoop, staring into the night with only the light from the streetlamp to illuminate the yard.

“Who’s out there?” she demanded.

She stepped into the darkness and moved around the corner of the house. Another shadow flitted, and she hurried to catch up to it.

“FBI! Freeze!” she demanded, but she saw no one when she ran around the back corner. Her ankle was screaming for relief, and her head was beginning to pound. It had been such a long day. Perhaps her nerves were finally getting to her. She headed toward the back door, slamming into a figure as she turned the corner.

A scream lit up the night, and too late Lucy realized she’d knocked down Mrs. Ferguson. Lucy lunged to catch her, but only managed to trip and fall herself. She slammed onto the concrete pavers and rammed her knee into one.

“Mrs. Ferguson, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

The older woman sat up and checked herself. “No, I’m surprisingly uninjured. I’m sorry, dear. You frightened me.”

Lucy scrambled to her feet and helped Mrs. Ferguson up. “I was searching for you. I heard a noise and I was afraid something had happened to you.”

“No, no. I received a call asking if I could walk Mrs. Littleton’s dog because she’d decided to stay another night at her sister’s house. But Mrs. Littleton was at home. She hadn’t even gone to her daughter’s house. Why on earth would someone do that?”

Nothing about that sounded right. “You didn’t recognize the voice?”

“No, but that’s not unusual. I don’t hear that well anymore. I assumed it was her daughter calling me. They have my number, and I’m always glad to help whenever they need me.”

Lucy was certainly willing to believe Mrs. Ferguson was known for her helpfulness. “Perhaps you misunderstood the caller.”

She nodded. “Yes, that must be it.”

Suddenly a figure appeared in the darkness. “What’s going on?”

Lucy spun around, gun raised and all her senses on alert.

Bryce raised his hands and backed up. “Whoa. It’s only me.”

“What are you doing back here?” she asked, her heart rate beginning to slow.

“Mrs. Ferguson called me earlier and said if I wasn’t too far away, I should swing back and take home some of her lasagna for Meghan. I was at the gas station when she phoned.”

“Yes, I did make that call,” Mrs. Ferguson stated. “I’m glad I did. You’re back just in the nick of time. Lucy thinks someone was in the house.”

Bryce’s composure shifted to protective mode. “Are you sure?”

She saw his concern and felt silly at her obvious misinterpretation. “No, I’m not.”

“Let’s check anyway.”

He headed inside, and Lucy instructed Mrs. Ferguson to wait while they searched the house. She and Bryce looked through every room and saw no evidence of an intruder. Lucy was starting to feel like she’d imagined the threat—until she opened the door to the back room.