Trust Me (Last Stand 1)

Her voice dropped. “Would you have come over?”

He knew better than to spend much time alone with Skye. If he went over there now, he wouldn’t be able to resist taking what he so desperately wanted—taking what she’d willingly offer. And then he wouldn’t be able to make a life with Lynnette, would never be satisfied with what his conscience dictated he had to do. “If it meant protecting you,” he told her gruffly.

“I can protect myself,” she said and hung up.

Frowning, David hit the redial button.

She let it ring several times, but finally answered. “What is it?”

“Call me the minute anything like that happens again. Do you understand?”

“Because…”

“Because I’m worried about you, damn it!”

“Be careful, Detective. That sounds like you’re beginning to care.” Except for that one kiss, and the time he’d nearly spent the night, he’d been circumspect, kept her at arm’s length. But she knew how he felt. She had to know. He couldn’t look at her without wanting her.

“I’ve cared from the beginning,” he snapped. “Sometimes you’re all I can think about.”

He hadn’t made an actual admission before, but those words didn’t seem to improve the situation. Maybe because they’d been spoken so grudgingly.

“You’d change that if you could,” she said, the statement an accusation.

He didn’t deny it. Surely it would be easier to fulfill his obligations to Lynnette and his promises to Jeremy if he didn’t dream of making love to Skye. “Yes.”

“And I’m supposed to be satisfied with that?”

He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair. “It’s all I can give.”

Click.

David nearly called her again. He wanted—needed—something. Closure. Understanding. Acceptance of his limitations. Concurrence that he was doing the right thing. But it wouldn’t be enough, because what he really wanted was her.

Tossing his phone away to remove the temptation, he cursed under his breath. He had to let go, forget her if he was ever going to rebuild his family. But now that Burke was getting out, he couldn’t forget Skye—or she could wind up dead.

5

What was he missing?

David had left his ex-wife’s house the moment he discovered she was safe in her bed, and was now in his home office, actually the third bedroom of his Midtown apartment. Sunlight crept across his desk as the sun rose, making the lamp he’d turned on unnecessary. But he didn’t bother to turn it off. He was too engrossed in the files he’d spread out. He’d already gone through them over the weekend, but he was studying every piece of paper and every photograph yet again. There had to be something here, some piece of evidence that tied Burke to the three young women who were murdered in their homes. What was it?

He went over it all in his mind, trying to recap what he knew and see what he might be missing. All three, Meredith Connelly, Amber Farello and Patty Poindexter, were between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five….

Burke’s question came back to him as he studied their pictures: What do you imagine when you look at a nude woman in Playboy? Like Skye, these victims were all exceptionally attractive—and big-breasted. At the prison, Burke had mentioned that his own wife was “busty,” which led David to believe Burke might have a fetish for that part of a woman’s body.

David wasn’t sure what that told him. Most guys liked a woman’s br**sts. But he tucked the information away in case it connected with something else later on, some way of determining how and where Burke had chosen his victims. Considering what he’d said about the women he saw in magazines, David was beginning to wonder if he’d been attacked those young women in an attempt to obtain what he idolized. Had he been spurned by someone in the past? Someone especially pretty who thought she was too good for him?

It was worth checking out. Making a quick note, David moved on.

Amber and Patty were single and lived with their parents. Meredith had been sharing a rental home with a boyfriend. Amber’s mom and dad were in their bedroom during the attack but heard nothing, which made the situation particularly heart-wrenching for them.

Although Patty and Meredith had died in the evening around 8:00 p.m., Amber had been killed between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m. A bicycle enthusiast, Oliver had ridden to work every day and sometimes didn’t come home until well after dark, when he used a headlight to make his way back up the bike trail from downtown, where he’d worked, to Granite Bay, where he’d lived. That created the opportunity for the evening attacks.

What about the attacks on Amber and Skye? At first David hadn’t been able to figure out how Oliver had managed to leave home in the middle of the night without waking Jane.

Fortunately, he’d solved that riddle by researching Jane’s medical history, which revealed that shortly after she’d had Kate she’d suffered from postpartum depression and insomnia and had relied heavily on sedatives in order to sleep.

David still wondered where Oliver had put his bloody clothes after each murder, and how he’d cleaned up before returning home. Of course, two years had passed by the time Burke became a suspect and they’d inspected his house. They hadn’t found any trace of Amber’s blood in the drains or on any of Oliver’s shoes or clothes. His vehicles were clean, too.

Rubbing his lip, David decided to reinterview Oliver’s friends and neighbors. When the story broke, Burke had pretended to be such a martyr—telling any reporter who’d listen that Skye had attacked him while she was on drugs. As a result, almost everyone who knew him had rallied to his defense. David had received letters that said, “How can you let the lies of one woman break up a loving family?” The mayor’s daughter, one of Burke’s patients at the time, had even testified as a character witness.

David wished Burke had come up with the “Skye on drugs” scenario when they could’ve tested to disprove it. But he’d wisely kept his mouth shut, offering nothing as he conferred privately with his lawyers. It was weeks before he claimed he’d gone to Skye’s place for consensual sex, at which point she’d attacked him. No one could prove anything one way or the other. There was no evidence to suggest Skye had ever taken drugs. But earlier that night she’d gone out with some new friends from work to a party where Ecstasy had been available. According to Skye, she’d left early because of it and gone home alone, but since her roommate was in Tahoe that weekend, it came down to her word against Burke’s. Finding Oliver’s DNA in Skye’s bedroom merely established that he’d been there, not that he’d been there uninvited, especially because they couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten in. Unlike the murders along the river, there was no cut screen. The police found the front door unlocked when they arrived, but Skye claimed she’d locked it when she went to bed. David guessed Burke had seen her use a hide-a-key sometime before that and helped himself. He must’ve put it right back, though. When they checked, the key was where she always put it.