Special Agent's Surrender Read online

  He gave her a curt nod and then closed his eyes, as if he could shut out the world with a flip of his eyelids.

  “Jacob, talk to me.” Her voice was a soft plea. “Don’t shut yourself off.”

  “Do me a favor and just leave me alone,” he replied without opening his eyes.

  Silence reigned for a moment and he wondered if maybe she’d gotten up and left the room. He cracked open an eyelid and saw her still seated on the sofa, her gaze lingering on him. He quickly snapped his eyelid closed once again.

  “You can’t keep yourself out of this,” she said softly. “You can’t hide anymore, Jacob.”

  He opened his eyes and glared at her. “What do you know about it? What do you know about anything? I can do whatever the hell I want to do. Just leave me the hell alone.”

  She got up from the sofa and walked to the side of his chair. The scent of her perfume surrounded him as she leaned down to face him eye-to-eye. “I know that I think it’s damned arrogant of you to believe that you and you alone were responsible for those women’s deaths.”

  “I was,” he half yelled.

  “That’s a bunch of nonsense,” she retorted. “You didn’t hold a gun to this Professional’s head and force him to kidnap that last woman. You didn’t force him to kill those women. It was his fault and nothing you said to that creep could have made a difference.”

  He wanted to tell her to shut up, that the last thing he needed or wanted from her was her input into the situation. He got up from the chair, not wanting her hovering over him. He stalked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door and grabbed a beer.

  He was about to unscrew the top when she came into the kitchen. “Are you going to drink this away?” she asked. “Is that what you’ve been doing here for the last six months? How’s that working for you, Jacob?”

  “Don’t push me, Layla,” he warned. “Just back off and leave me alone.”

  With a stubborn glint in her eye, rather than doing as he asked she advanced toward him. “You’ve been left alone to wallow in your self-pity for too long.”

  She walked closer to him and when she was close enough to touch him she took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the counter.

  “I felt his arm around my neck, Jacob,” she continued, her gaze steady and determined as it held his. “I felt his malevolence, the very evil inside him. He likes it. You said it yourself, he gets off on the terror he creates. He was responsible for those deaths, not you. Surely somewhere in that hard head of yours you know I’m right.”

  Although he’d heard those very words from his supervisors and coworkers before he’d left his job, he hadn’t believed them, at least not then when it had all been so fresh, so terrible. But, now the words coming from her found the wound in his soul and somehow eased a bit of the pain.

  “They haunt me, you know,” he confessed. “The women he killed. I see them in my dreams.”

  Her eyes were shiny with emotion and he knew it was for him. She placed a hand on his arm, her fingers warm through the thin fabric of his cotton shirt. He welcomed her warmth, wanted to pull her against him and lose himself in her heat.

  “Jacob, you have to play his game again. You have to forget about those other women and focus on the ones who are hopefully still alive.”

  Her touch no longer felt welcome, but rather burned him. He jerked away from her and stepped back, but she came forward as if refusing to acknowledge his retreat.

  “Jacob, for God’s sake, he has your sister,” she exclaimed. “If for no other reason you have to be involved in this for her.”

  The words pierced through the veil of denial he’d tried to erect. Brittany. His heart cried her name and for a moment he felt too weak to stand.

  Layla stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled herself tight against him. He grabbed on to her as if she were an anchor in a storm-tossed sea.

  He felt her heartbeat racing as fast as his own and remembered that she was a part of this, that she had nearly been The Professional’s victim.

  She trembled in his arms and he tightened his grip on her. She raised her head and looked at him and in her eyes he saw his own emotions mirrored there.

  “I’m going to play,” he said, knowing he really had no other choice. “I’m going to play his game and hope that this time I find them in time.”

  Somehow in the depths of his soul he’d known from the moment he’d received the note that he would once again be chasing The Professional and hoping that this time had a different ending.

  “I’m afraid, Jacob,” she whispered softly.

  He once again tightened his grip on her. “It’s going to be all right,” he replied. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was absolutely, positively terrified of what was to come.

  Chapter 5

  Layla awoke to the sounds of men’s voices coming from the living room. She assumed Tom and Jacob were having a meeting. She rolled over and grabbed her wristwatch from the nightstand and saw that it was just after eight.

  Too early to get up and she didn’t want to intrude on the crime-fighting talk going on. She definitely didn’t want to know any more details about The Professional and his crimes. She knew all she needed to know about the horror of what he had done, promised yet to do.

  Her heart ached as she thought about Jacob. Now they all knew the terrible events that had brought him home, the trauma that had left him with haunted eyes and a scarred heart.

  After Tom had left the night before and as she and Jacob had embraced, she’d been afraid for herself, but she’d also been afraid for him. She knew if he was forced to play the madman’s game again and things went badly and his sister was murdered, he’d probably never recover from the guilt and grief.

  And for a moment, as she’d stood in his embrace, she’d felt connected to him in mind and soul like she had never felt connected to another man. Bound by fear and circumstance to each other, not exactly a good basis for a relationship, she reminded herself.

  “Not that I’m looking for a relationship,” she muttered aloud.

  It wasn’t long after that embrace that Jacob had insisted she go to bed. She’d done that, but it had been a long time before sleep had finally found her.

  She must have fallen back asleep for when she opened her eyes again it was just after nine and the cabin was silent. Outside the wind whistled, promising a frigid, blustery day. The sunlight was muted, as if its shine was bothered by low-hanging clouds. Maybe the winter storm that had been forecasted for next week was coming in faster than expected.

  She got out of bed and pulled her robe on, then left the bedroom to find Jacob standing at the front window, a cup of coffee in his hand. Even though she didn’t think she’d made a sound he turned to face her as if he’d sensed her presence.

  “I’m going into town around eleven to meet with Tom and go over his case files on the missing women,” he said.

  “Then I’m coming with you,” she replied. “I can make arrangements to meet Portia or one of my other friends for lunch.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied. He looked cold, distant, very different from the emotional, vulnerable man of the night before.

  “It’s a perfectly fine idea,” she countered. “I can ride with you to the sheriff’s office and then go to the café for lunch. I’ll be surrounded by people and I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe.” She didn’t want to stay here all alone. “Jacob, we can’t be sure that he doesn’t know you’re here at the cabin. I don’t want to be left here without you.”

  A muscle knotted in his jaw. “You could stay with Edie at the big house,” he countered.

  She shook her head. “I want to eat lunch out and I’ll be just fine.”

  He frowned. “Okay, you’re coming with me but if you can’t find a lunch date then you’ll have to cool your heels in Tom’s office. I don’t want you wandering the streets all alone.”

  “Trust me, I’ll find somebody to hav
e lunch with me,” she replied and headed for the phone in the kitchen. Portia was thrilled to hear from her and immediately agreed to meet her for lunch.

  When it was finally time to leave, Layla couldn’t wait to get out of the cabin. Jacob had retreated so far into himself she couldn’t reach him. He remained at the window…watching…waiting, an air of expectation keeping his shoulders rigid and his back straight.

  Whatever tenuous connection they’d made the night before was gone, swallowed by the darkness of his eyes. She had a feeling he didn’t like the fact that she’d seen him vulnerable, that she’d momentarily been his comfort.

  A man like Jacob wouldn’t tolerate pity and would hate to be seen as weak. She hadn’t thought him weak, rather she thought his inner torment spoke of a good man’s battle against evil.

  At a quarter to eleven they were in his truck and headed into town. “I think it’s going to snow,” she said as she held her hands out to the warmth of the heater.

  “Feels like it,” he replied.

  “I always hated winter. It’s so quiet when the snow falls and my dad didn’t work much when it snowed.” She turned and looked at Jacob. “He was a construction worker so winter meant he was home most of the time.”

  “And you didn’t like having him home?”

  “Not much. He wasn’t a very nice man, but that’s a whole different story. I hate winter but I love Christmas.” She frowned. “And I’m missing the fun of putting up my tree and decorating it. At least it will be fun to have some girl time with Portia.”

  “Just make sure you stay with her and then come straight back to Tom’s office. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Keep talking like that and I might think you care about me,” she said teasingly.

  “Strictly business,” he replied curtly. “Tom is holding a news conference at noon to remind women to check their backseats before they get into their vehicles and to not wander off alone. He’s going to announce that the women of the town shouldn’t trust anyone.”

  “That will stir things up,” she replied.

  “At this point it’s necessary for him to repeat the warnings. Now that we know what we’re up against it’s important that every woman watch their backs.”

  “Most of us were already doing that with the disappearances,” Layla replied.

  “And yet he almost got to you in your car,” Jacob countered.

  “I got careless,” she replied. She frowned thoughtfully. “Tom said that he thought all the women had been taken from their cars. I know Suzy and Jennifer’s cars were left at their workplaces and Casey’s was still parked in her driveway, but Brittany’s was hidden in an old barn.”

  “Tom and I talked about that this morning. We think maybe he hid her car because he wasn’t ready for anyone to know what was going on yet.”

  “He’s smart, isn’t he?” She watched as Jacob’s features tightened.

  “Like a fox.”

  “Did the FBI ever get close to catching him?”

  He hesitated a long moment. “No. We never got close. He was like a ghost in the shadows, a phantom that gave us just enough information to whet our appetites, but he didn’t make any mistakes.”

  Chilling. The whole thing was chilling.

  The rest of the ride was accomplished in silence. Layla stared out the window and tried not to think about the killer who was working in their town. Instead she thought about how nice it had felt both times that she’d found herself in Jacob’s embrace.

  After her nightmare his arms around her had made her feel safe, and last night there had been an intimacy between them that had felt right despite the horrible circumstances.

  She glanced at him now and was struck again by the fact that he looked so self-contained, like a man comfortable in his utter aloneness.

  He’d told her he didn’t do relationships and she wondered what had brought him to that decision. Certainly at the moment he appeared to be a man who needed nobody, but had it always been that way?

  By the time they reached the sheriff’s office Portia was already there waiting for her. After saying hello to Tom and Sam McCain, one of the other deputies, Layla and Portia left to walk the short distance to the café.

  “I’ve been worried sick about you,” Portia said as she leaned into the wind and pulled her collar up closer around her face.

  “I’m fine,” Layla replied, the wind nearly carrying her words away. “We’ll talk when we get inside.”

  There were few people walking the streets and when they reached the café they found that many of the usual lunch crowd had apparently opted to spend the bitterly cold day in the warmth of their homes.

  They sat at a table near the back and shrugged out of their coats. “Now, how are you really?” Portia asked.

  “I’m okay.” Layla smiled to assure her friend. “Really.”

  “When Caleb told me about the attack on you my heart nearly stopped. You must have been so terrified.”

  “I was,” Layla admitted. “But, I feel better staying in the cabin with Jacob. Nothing like having a real live FBI agent at your beck and call.”

  “I doubt that Jacob is at your beck and call,” Portia replied drily. “I can’t imagine him doing anything for anyone that he doesn’t have to do.”

  “He’s not so bad,” Layla said, feeling the need to defend him. “He’s had a rough time. Didn’t Caleb mention to you what we found out last night?”

  “I only saw Caleb for a few minutes this morning and we had some other things to talk about. So tell me what you know.”

  In a lowered voice Layla told her everything that had transpired the night before. Portia listened wide-eyed as Layla told her about the dead women in Kansas City and The Professional who they now suspected had the missing women from Black Rock.

  “That’s horrifying,” she said when Layla was finished. “It’s scary to realize how evil people can be. And it’s possible it might be somebody who grew up right here, somebody we all know.”

  Layla nodded and for the first time looked around at the people inside the café. What would a killer look like? Would he look like Buck Harmon? Buck sat at the counter eating a burger, his long dark hair unruly and his shoulders set in defensive arrogance.

  Buck frequented The Edge, a bar on the outskirts of town where Layla occasionally went to dance and have fun. He’d asked her out a couple of times but she’d always turned him down. Buck was trouble and she wanted nothing to do with him.

  Or was The Professional an older man? Maybe one of the men seated in a group in the corner? John Mathews, a pleasant-looking man who worked in the bank next to Layla’s office, caught her eye and raised a hand in greeting.

  The Professional could be anywhere. He could be anyone, somebody they all knew and trusted. He was a monster wearing an ordinary face. Or was it possible he was hiding in the shadows in town? Not somebody they all knew, but rather a drifter who had no real ties to the area?

  “Afternoon, ladies. What can I get for you?” Katy Matherson, the waitress, interrupted the direction of Layla’s thoughts.

  Layla ordered a burger and fries and Portia ordered a salad. Once Katy had departed, Portia leaned back against the red vinyl booth and eyed Layla with concern.

  “How are you and Jacob getting along?” she asked.

  “I think maybe I’m driving him a little bit crazy,” she admitted. “You know me, I like to talk and I don’t think he likes to listen to me.” She frowned and took a sip of her water. “I think he thinks I’m shallow.” She thought of that moment when Jacob had asked her what she had to worry about except the next sale on shoes.

  “Then he just doesn’t know you very well,” Portia replied. She reached across the table and grabbed Layla’s hand. “The important thing is that you stay there with him until this crazy man is caught. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you, that’s the safest place for you to be right now.”

  “I know.” Layla sighed, her thoughts filled with a vision of Jaco
b. “I’m attracted to him.”

  Portia looked at her in dismay. “Oh, Layla, why do you always find yourself attracted to men who are emotionally unavailable?”

  “That’s not true,” Layla protested. “Jackson Michaels wasn’t emotionally unavailable.” Jackson was the last man she’d dated. The relationship had been hot and heavy for two months and then he’d stopped calling her.

  “Then why aren’t you still with him?”

  Layla frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know. He just stopped calling and that was it.” To be perfectly honest, she hadn’t been heartbroken. Jackson had been a nice guy, but he hadn’t taken her breath away, he hadn’t made her wild with desire. He’d just been a comfortable date on lonely nights. “I guess you’d have to ask him why he stopped calling,” she finally said.

  “Didn’t you?” Portia asked.

  Layla shook her head. “No, I just figured if he didn’t want to see me anymore then that was that.”

  “Sometimes you have to fight for what you want, Layla. You’ve dated a lot but you’ve never fought for any of those relationships to last.”

  “Life is too short to have to fight for a man. Besides, who needs one? All I said is that I was attracted to Jacob.”

  The last thing Layla wanted to do was any sort of self-analysis on why she was almost thirty years old and still alone. In her heart she thought maybe her father was right. She was a good-time girl, but not worth a lifetime of love. In any case, she was sorry she’d brought the whole thing up.

  “Jacob is damaged goods and that’s the last man you need to get involved with,” Portia exclaimed.

  Thankfully the food arrived and the conversation turned more pleasant. Portia entertained her with stories about her children at the daycare and extolled the virtues of the new assistant she’d hired.

  As Portia talked about the kids, Layla found her heart filled with the familiar wistfulness that struck her sometimes when she thought about family. She wanted children. She wanted to be the mother she’d never had to a son or a daughter.