Desperate Measures (Harlequin Intrigue) Page 2

  There were dozens of survivors’ groups around the Kansas City area, yet according to what Janet had just told her, the Vigilante Killer had focused in on this particular group. Why?

  And now she had another reason to talk to Jake Lamont. Although she couldn’t see how this information worked in the puzzle she was trying to piece together, it definitely warranted further exploration. And that’s what she did for a living.

  For the rest of the morning she worked on the material for her podcast that night, and then she left the house to shop for a few groceries and to buy a new coffee machine. There was no way she was going to go a full day without her coffee.

  It was nearly three by the time she got back home. The whole time she’d been shopping, her brain had worked overtime on the information Janet had given her. She made herself a cup of coffee and once again sat in her office chair.

  Rather than thinking about the killer, she found herself thinking about Jake Lamont. He was definitely one hot hunk of a man. His suit had fit perfectly over his broad shoulders. His dark hair had been slightly shaggy and his eyes had been the deep green of a primal forest.

  She’d come home the night before and had done a search on him. She’d learned that he was single and a successful architect. She’d reread articles about his sister’s murder, and she’d also used a search engine that had provided both his work and home phone numbers and his home address.

  At four she left her small ranch house and drove the fifteen miles to where Jake Lamont lived. She had no idea what time he got home from work. She didn’t even know if he did work today, considering it was Saturday. But she intended to go to his house and try to talk to him again.

  She especially wanted to speak to him now, armed with the new information she’d received from Janet. If he wasn’t home when she arrived, then she intended to be there waiting for his return.

  She still hoped to get him on her evening podcast and now she also wanted to ask him about the time he’d spent at the Northland Survivor Group and the other three men who had attended with him.

  Jake’s house was a large, beautiful brick with a huge bay window in the front. The lawn was neatly manicured, with trimmed bushes and flowers surrounding a beautiful fountain. Both the oversize plot and the expanse of the house whispered of money and success.

  The first thing she did on arriving was knock on his front door. When there was no answer she assumed he wasn’t home, and she pulled out of his circular driveway and parked down the street where she could see him when he arrived.

  She’d taken him by surprise last night. She was hoping tonight he’d be more willing to talk with her. She’d just settled in to wait when her cell phone rang. There were only a few people who had this number.

  Looking at the caller identification, her stomach instantly clenched tight with a familiar stress. “Hi, Dad,” she answered.

  “What are you doing?” Neil Wright’s deep voice boomed over the line.

  “I’m working.”

  Her father’s dry chuckle twisted the nerves in her stomach even tighter. “I was hoping by the time you hit thirty you’d put that podcast silliness aside and get a real job.”

  “Dad, this is a real job,” she replied, knowing it would do no good. She’d been a disappointment to her father since the moment she’d been born a girl instead of a boy.

  She was the youngest of three girls and according to her father, was the last chance for him to get the son he’d desperately wanted.

  It hadn’t been so bad when her mother had been alive to soothe the hurt her father sometimes caused, but her mother had died from breast cancer when Monica had been eight.

  “So, what’s up?” she now asked.

  “I’m heading out early in the morning for a day of fishing with Harry and Frank, but those parts I ordered for my truck came in at the Liberty location so I was wondering if while you’re out running around tomorrow, you could pick them up for me.”

  Monica stifled a deep sigh. “Sure, I can do that.”

  “Great, just drop them off in the garage. I’ll be home late tomorrow night.”

  When the call ended, she released the sigh she had stifled moments before. Her father often asked her to run errands for him and to her it was just another indication of how little he respected her and her job.

  She knew she could gain his respect if she went back to school and became a nurse or a lawyer, like her two sisters had become.

  But news was her passion and she absolutely loved what she did. Always in the back of her mind was the notion that if she became big enough, if she reached a certain number of followers or one of her stories got picked up by a national news source, maybe then she’d be good enough for her father to love.

  All insecurities and thoughts of her father flew out of her head as Jake Lamont’s car passed hers and turned into his driveway.

  She started her engine and followed behind him, her heart beating with the excitement of a potential story. He stopped outside his garage door and got out of his car.

  She quickly parked behind him and did the same. Good lord, the man had been a hunk in his suit last night, but he was even hotter in his jeans and a navy T-shirt that showcased his muscled chest and flat abdomen.

  “You’re trespassing.” His handsome, chiseled features were taut with obvious anger.

  “I thought with a night to think about it, maybe you changed your mind about being on my podcast.” She offered him her most charming smile.

  “My mind hasn’t changed,” he replied, and headed toward his front door.

  She followed closely behind him. “Since the latest man murdered by the Vigilante Killer is tied to you and your sister’s death, I’d really like to get how you feel about the murder on the record.”

  “What don’t you understand about no comment?” he replied tersely. He unlocked his front door and then turned back to look at her. “And now it’s time for you to get off my property.”

  “Just one more thing,” she said hurriedly. “Can you confirm to me that you attended meetings at the Northland Survivor Group at the same time Nick Simon, Troy Anderson and Matt Harrison attended?”

  He appeared to freeze. Once again he turned to face her. The anger that had ridden his features appeared to relax. “Okay, I’ll give you five minutes. Come on in,” he finally said, and to her surprise he opened his door wider.

  Chapter Two

  She’d shocked him. How in the hell had she managed to learn about the four men attending the Northland Survivor Group together? And what other information might she have?

  His need to know what she knew was the only reason he invited her inside. Watching her podcast the few times he had, he’d recognized she was tenacious and ambitious...two dangerous traits when it came to her digging into the Vigilante Killer case.

  He guessed the killer was one of two men, but he needed to know what Monica knew about the case, because if the truth came out he’d be charged as an accomplice.

  Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer, he told himself as he ushered her into his family room. “Drink?” he asked as she eased down onto his sofa and he walked over to his minibar in the corner of the room. Maybe he could get her relaxed enough she would give up all the information she’d already gleaned about the case.

  She gazed at him with a sudden wariness in the depths of her amazing blue eyes. “I just want you to know that my producer and my cameraman are in a car just up the street. Warren and Wally always have my back and they know I’m here. And with that said, I’d love a cold glass of water.”

  What did she think? That he’d invited her inside to kill her? He had no idea if she really had a Warren and Wally just waiting to run to her rescue, but he certainly had no intention of harming her in any way.

  He handed her a glass of ice water and then carried his Scotch and water to the recliner chair opposite he
r. “Let’s get one thing straight right now—I’m not going to be on your podcast,” he began. “But I’ll tell you off the record how I felt when I learned that Max Clinton was murdered by the Vigilante Killer.”

  “Do you mind if I record this?” She pulled a cell phone out of her oversize bright red purse.

  “Actually, I do mind,” he replied. He didn’t want anything about this on tape. “I told you this was off the record. Besides, I’m not sure you need a recording for what I’m going to tell you. When I heard that Max Clinton had been murdered I felt nothing except for a bit of relief that he would never harm another woman again.”

  “Yes, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she replied.

  He nodded and for just a moment his thoughts were filled with Suzanna. They had always seemed to know what the other was thinking or about to say. “It’s a twin thing,” they’d say to their friends. He’d felt gutted since her death, as if half his soul had been stolen and would never be returned.

  “And where were you on the night that Max was murdered?” Her question made the here and now slam back into him.

  But, God, she was attractive. Today she was clad in a pair of black jeans that hugged her legs and a red tank top that matched her red heels and hinted at a bit of cleavage.

  How many men had lost themselves in the depths of her blue eyes or in the utter charm of her smile and spilled their guts? She smelled of something citrusy with mysterious spices that were incredibly evocative.

  “Where were you when Max was murdered?” she asked again.

  He mentally shook himself and focused on the question, not on how sexy he found her. “I was at Doug’s Tavern in a meeting with the mayor, half a dozen city councilmen and some local architects. We were discussing the renovation and renewal project going on downtown. Then I came back here and slept.”

  “Alone?”

  He gave a curt nod. “Yes, I was alone.” He knew Max’s time of death was sometime between midnight and two in the morning. And that meant he had no real alibi for the time of the murder. He’d been questioned briefly by the police the day after the murder, but he hadn’t heard anything more from the authorities.

  “And how did you learn about Max’s murder?”

  “I read it in the newspaper like most of the people in Kansas City.”

  “Would you like to tell me something about your sister?” Her features radiated a soft sympathy.

  Oh, he’d love to talk about his sister...about the loving, wonderfully magical woman she had been. But it would cheapen Suzanna to talk about her to this stranger who was only looking for her next scoop.

  “No,” he answered simply. “Why are you here talking to me?”

  “When Max Clinton was murdered, and a V was carved in his forehead, I knew he was a fourth victim of this particular killer. The police tried to keep the V out of the new reports from the very beginning, but somebody leaked it to the press.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “How do you know that?”

  “I have a friend on the police force,” she replied.

  “You mean you have a snitch.”

  “Friend...snitch...whatever you want to call him, he occasionally gives me a little inside information that keeps me up to date with what’s going on with the crime in Kansas City. I also heard there’s going to be a news conference tomorrow and the police are going to ask the community for their help in catching this person.”

  Interesting. Jake would definitely like to know what was going on in the investigation into the Vigilante Killer, and Monica Wright just might make an interesting partner of sorts.

  “You still haven’t told me what, specifically, you want from me?” he said.

  “Initially I thought you would make a good human interest story for my podcast, but then I got a tip about you and the three other men attending the Northland Survivor Group.”

  “Who was your source for that?” he asked.

  She smiled and her eyes gleamed with both intelligence and wit. “I don’t give up the name of my sources. So do you know Nick Simon, Troy Anderson and Matt Harrison?”

  “I do. You’re right, we all attended meetings there around the same time, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “So it’s just an odd coincidence that the killer has gone after the men who ruined all your lives?” She shook her head and once again her eyes shone with keen intelligence. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe in those kinds of coincidences. The killer seems to have a connection to the survivor group, and that means you might know him.” She leaned forward. “If you know something about the killer, then please tell me.”

  “Why should I tell you anything?” he countered. “I don’t even know you. You’re just somebody who showed up unannounced on my doorstep.”

  “So why did you invite me?” she countered.

  “Because you caught my interest when you mentioned the survivor group and the other men.”

  “Have you ever seen my podcast?”

  He took another sip of his drink before replying. “I’ve caught it a couple of times.”

  “Then you should know I’m good at what I do. I dig into investigations and there’s nobody in this city who wants to identify this killer more than me. I want this... I need this to prove to everyone that I’m here to stay, that what I do with my podcast is a real job.” Her cheeks flushed pink, as if she hadn’t meant to say so much. She leaned back.

  He studied her for a long moment. “Then we both want the same thing. I want this killer caught and I intend to bring him down. He’s obviously unhinged and enjoys killing, and I don’t see him stopping anytime soon.”

  She frowned, the gesture doing nothing to detract from her attractiveness. “He’s smart and he’s thorough. He hasn’t left a single clue behind for the police to work with. They are frustrated by their lack of leads. Right now he’s killing what most of society would deem bad guys, but that still makes him a murderer.”

  “I totally agree.”

  She gazed at him for a long moment. “What’s your story? You’re a successful, award-winning architect. What would make you want to suddenly become a killer-hunter?”

  He certainly wasn’t ready to trust her with the details of the murder pact six men had made in the woods behind an abandoned baseball field.

  To give the information he had to anyone presented a huge risk, not only to himself but also to the four other innocent men in the group. He felt responsible for the birth of the Vigilante Killer and he had to somehow figure out how to point a finger for the police. But first, he had to see which one of the remaining two men was the guilty one. And the only way to do that was to do some investigating of his own.

  “Let’s just say I feel a moral obligation to go after him,” he finally replied.

  She narrowed her eyes. “So you do know something.”

  “I might,” he admitted.

  Her eyes lit with an obvious hunger, and he momentarily wondered what it would feel like if her eyes lit up like that when she looked at him as a man and not just as a source for a big story.

  “If we both want the same thing then there’s no reason why we couldn’t partner up. I can share with you all the information I have and you could share with me.”

  The offer surprised him. He had to admit there was a part of him that had longed to talk about what he knew with somebody. But he’d never dreamed he’d share any of this with anyone, especially not with an ambitious reporter.

  “I need some time to think about it,” he finally said.

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know...give me twenty-four hours.” He wanted to stop the Vigilante Killer, but he’d certainly never thought about having a partner who may have some resources to help him achieve that goal.

  She checked her wristwatch and then stood. “Okay, twenty-four hours it is. I’ve got to get
home now to do my podcast.”

  He rose as well. “I hope nothing we discussed here is in your podcast tonight,” he said as they walked to his front door.

  “Contrary to what you believe about me, I know how to keep secrets. How can I catch up with you tomorrow?”

  “How about you have dinner with me at D’Angelo’s. Do you know where it is?” Even as he asked the question he wondered what in the hell he was doing.

  “I do. What time is good for you?”

  “Shall we say around six?”

  She nodded and then smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Tell Wally and Warren I said hi.”

  Her smile turned slightly sheepish. “Will do. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that she turned and hurried out to her car.

  He watched until she pulled out of his driveway and then he closed and locked his front door. His brain spun wildly as he returned to his recliner and picked up what was left of his drink.

  What in the hell was he doing even thinking about sharing what he knew with her? And he’d definitely lost his mind in inviting her out to dinner.

  If he was going to work with her in any way, it would be a fine line he’d have to walk to make sure he didn’t incriminate himself or the others. But she was a wild card in this whole mess and he knew she wasn’t going to stop digging. At least if he worked with her he might be able to guide her investigation on a path he wanted to keep it on.

  Still, he had to remember that she would throw him under the bus in a minute to get her story.

  * * *

  IT WAS JUST after five thirty when Monica angled her car into a parking place down the street from D’Angelo’s Restaurant. It was a popular place to dine with great Italian food and reasonable prices, but on a Sunday evening there would be fewer diners.

  She’d come away from Jake’s house last night with the gut-burning certainty that he had some knowledge that would help move the investigation forward.