Jenna Ryan - A Voice in the Dark

Noah stood slowly, felt the metal basket push into the side of his long coat. “What is it you want? Blood from a stone? Not gonna happen. Blood from another victim? Already done. You knew the killer wasn’t dead, and so did I.”

“That fire…”

“Only destroyed the warehouse and its contents.”

“The investigating agents said the flames were hot enough to incinerate bone.”

“But they didn’t.” Noah turned his head halfway. “Because there were no bones to burn, and when the fire was out, only another victim in the morgue. You drove too fast, I didn’t move fast enough, and it didn’t end that night.”

“And all of it, every last frigging scrap, was your fault, you bast…”

“Don’t.” Noah switched his gaze to the water. “You want to be bitter, go ahead. You want to wallow, be my guest. But don’t roll up to me on the spot where another victim lost his life and try to blame me for everything that went wrong that night. For what’s always been wrong in your life.”

Red-faced, Brian circled until they faced each other. “And your life’s just peachy, is it? Exactly the way you want it to be? Tell me you’re not bitter, that you’re not wallowing, that you don’t blame yourself for what happened. Tell me, and we’ll both have a good laugh.”

His voice trembled but whether from fury or sorrow, Noah couldn’t say. In any case, he softened his attitude and his expression. “It shouldn’t have gone the way it did. I should have known the kid would go off half-cocked with a bellyful of something to prove. Not sure if the proving was for your benefit or mine, but it doesn’t matter. He was green. I wasn’t. I should have seen it coming.”

Brian’s knuckles whitened on the steering handles. “Is that supposed to make me feel better—you admitting you were wrong?”

A faint smile touched Noah’s mouth. In the pocket of his coat his cell phone began to vibrate. “Not particularly. Just thought it should be said. The past’s done, Brian. Your feelings are your own. But I want this guy—for a lot of reasons.”

“And because you can’t be on the case, you’re prepared to use Angel to get him. No matter what the cost.”

Noah simply stared until Brian spun with a jerk. Slapping the motorized vehicle in gear, he zoomed through the shadows and into the access way.

But not before Noah glimpsed the glitter of contempt in his eyes—and the twist of hatred he didn’t bother to hide on his lips.

“NOT GOING TO OVERREACT,” Angel promised herself. “I’ve been threatened before and will again. This isn’t new.” With the phone to her ear, she paced the perimeter of her living room floor. “Pick up, Graydon. We were talking less than twenty minutes ago.”

“Didn’t like the shoes, huh?” he said at last.

Stopping at the window, she let her eyes flit to the park across the street. “Much as I love the sexy drawl, I got a note.”

That killed it. “When?” he demanded.

No what, only when, in a whip-sharp tone that had nothing to do with sexy. “Maybe twenty minutes ago. I followed procedure, checked out the stairwells and doors, front and back. Whoever delivered it was gone. My neighbors who are home didn’t see a thing. There are no foot or tire prints.” She dragged the elastic band from her hair, blew out a breath. “How does this guy choose his victims, Noah? I have no connection to Foret. I’m not a soccer mom with three kids, a biotech who analyzes ocean fungus, or the CEO of a national supermarket chain. Yes, there was an FBI agent on the list of victims, along with a cop and another lawyer, but we’re talking years of separation and no link between them that anyone could find, including you, who’d have dug up whatever was diggable. So all that leaves is the fact that I’m working this case.” A sudden thought brought her head around with a snap. “Oh, my God, Liz!”

“Calm down, Angel.”

She raked the hair from her face, held it there. Breathed. And again. “I am calm. I am,” she repeated. “Perfectly. That babble was just me sorting through the confusion.” Crossing to the land phone, she punched her partner’s number.

“Is Liz at home?”

“No idea. I’m calling her cell—which, of course, she’s not answering…Liz, it’s Angel. I need you to call me back. It’s urgent…” She swung around. “Noah, are we talking about a multiple-target killer here? You know, threaten a new victim before he’s disposed of another?”

His lack of response wasn’t encouraging. She entered her partner’s home number, then tried Joe on his cell, leaving urgent messages on both.

“Moscow, come away from the window.” She caught his collar with two fingers. “Why me, Noah? Because of the case or not?”

“Angel…”

“I know, I know.” She tugged harder. “You don’t know.” Frustration battled fear. And thankfully beat it back. “What’s that sound?”

“My truck. Stay inside. Doors and windows locked, lights off. I’ll handle the follow-up.”

“I promise you, the guy’s gone. I even went through my upstairs neighbor’s condo. I’m watering her plants while she’s away for the holidays. There was no one.”

“Humor me, okay?”

She heard a squeal of tires. “Well, yeah—if you get here. The door’s bolted, and Moscow may be young, but he’s trained. I have two guns, I was top ten in hand-to-hand, and I’ve got adrenaline to spare at this point.”

“Use it to think. Just make sure you do it inside your place.”

“I’m not…”

“Promise me, Angel.”

The words wanted to stick. However…“Okay, I promise. On one condition.”

“And that is?”

Another squeal had her wincing. “Make it two. First, that you slow down, and second, that you don’t tell Bergman about this.”

“No.”

Frustration bled into exasperation. “Why not? And don’t be obtuse. Foret’s not the only person with connections in the capitol. My uncle’s a congressman.”

“Retired and living in Juneau.”

“I said don’t be obtuse.”

“This isn’t a game, Angel.”

“I’m not playing one. This is my life and my case. If Bergman pulls me off, I’ll simply investigate on my own time, without partner or backup.”

“The note you got tonight is evidence. You’d have to withhold it. Federal offense, Agent Carter.”

“I’ll have it analyzed for prints and all the usual etceteras. Fully aware here, Graydon, whatever you might think.”

A final squeal of brakes told her he’d arrived. She couldn’t resist, she returned to the window and stared at the street below.

It had to be Noah who climbed from the large, black truck. His coat was long and, she suspected, also black. In fact, everything about him appeared black, even his hair, which she thought might skim his shoulders. She couldn’t tell because he was wearing a hat with a broad brim and, since it was still raining, had his collar turned up.

He was definitely tall. Over six feet, with a long stride and, she imagined, a lean build.

Unfortunately, no features were visible, and she only had a glimpse to go on as the shadows of the old house swallowed him up within seconds of his arrival.

Moscow wedged himself between her and the ledge and pushed on her legs.

“Okay.” She gave his side an appreciative pat. “Backing away.”

But she glanced toward the solarium. It felt downright spooky that she would have painted Noah almost exactly as she’d seen him tonight. A shadow within a shadow.

“I’m in.”

“What? Oh.” She’d forgotten about the active phone connection. A frown, then, “In the building?”

“I’ve already gone through the lobby.”

Not going to ask, she decided. “Noah?”