Killer Exposure Page 16

  “Thanks.” Owen shook the man’s hand before turning to leave. Even though he wouldn’t be gone long, he felt better knowing Hannah would be watched over in his absence. He pulled his phone from his pocket while he walked. Better to make his calls now so he didn’t risk waking Hannah when he returned. He didn’t want any distractions to interrupt his time with her.

  * * *

  Hannah woke to a dark room, her back tingling insistently. She wriggled against the bed, but the movement did nothing to relieve the itching of her scars.

  “Everything okay?” Owen’s voice was like a soft caress and she closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment to enjoy the low, rumbling sound as it rolled over her.

  “I’m fine,” she replied automatically. She forced herself to remain still, hoping the itching would go away. But it didn’t.

  She moved again, pressing her back hard against the sheets. The added friction provided some relief, but the underlying irritation didn’t ease.

  “You don’t seem fine.” Why did he have to be so observant? Why couldn’t he just nod off like any normal person so she could figure out how to scratch her back in peace?

  “What is it? Are you in pain again?” Now he sounded concerned. Hannah heaved a mental sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to drop the subject until she gave him an explanation.

  “It’s my back. My scars itch.”

  “Oh.” He was quiet for a moment. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “You can get a nurse. I need to put some lotion on my back. I usually do it myself before going to bed, but that obviously didn’t happen today.”

  More silence. Then he spoke, his voice so husky she had to strain to hear. “I could do it for you.”

  She sucked in a breath, the suggestion hanging between them. Her body flared to life, skin warming at the thought of Owen’s hands on her again. Hadn’t she been fantasizing about that very thing only a few hours ago?

  The word yes was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She wanted Owen to see her as desirable, attractive. Having him slather lotion on her scars would only serve to remind him that she was damaged, something she couldn’t bear right now.

  As if sensing her hesitation, Owen leaned forward and laid his hand on her bed. “Please.” It was said so softly, empty of any pressure or insistence. Just a simple, heartfelt request.

  That one word broke through her defenses more effectively than any long-winded argument. He sounded so sincere she couldn’t help but nod slowly, her heart in her throat.

  He gave her a sweet smile that struck her square in the heart. She took a deep breath when he turned to fetch the travel-sized lotion from the toiletries the hospital had provided. She felt as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into the abyss. And all because of the man before her.

  Did he feel the same? Did he know how he affected her? Probably not. After all, she couldn’t even explain it to herself.

  He turned back, his face in the shadows. “Can you lean forward?”

  She nodded, even though he probably couldn’t see her that well. Using her uninjured arm, she grabbed onto the bed rail and pulled herself up until she was sitting on the bed. “Scoot up a bit,” he instructed, moving to stand next to her. She complied, bending her legs at the knee and inching toward the foot of the bed. Before she could ask why, Owen slid into the space behind her, his long legs coming to rest on either side of her body.

  His breath was a warm weight on the nape of her neck. Seconds later, she felt his fingers playing with the strings that held her gown closed. “I’m going to have to untie this knot.” A thrill shot through her system at the dark promise in his words. One firm tug, and the thin fabric of the hospital gown would fall, exposing her nakedness. The prospect left her both excited and scared. Even though the room was dim, Owen was sitting close enough to see the full extent of her scars. He would know, without a doubt, how disfigured she really was. What if she disgusted him? After all, it had happened before...

  Hannah held her breath, knowing this was her last chance to go back. She could refuse, ask for a nurse. He’d get up from the bed and give her back her personal space, and they could both pretend this moment had never happened. It was the rational, safe thing to do.

  But she was tired of playing it safe.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak past the lump in her throat. His fingers started to move and she slammed her eyes shut, struck by the foolish notion that if she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see her. After what seemed like an eternity, the fabric slid slowly, gently off her shoulders, skimming down her arms to pool softly in her lap.

  She should have felt cold, sitting in the chilly room with only her legs covered by the thin blankets. But Owen was putting off so much heat, she felt as if she were sitting in front of a roaring fire. It was a comforting sensation, and she wanted nothing more than to lean back and sink into his warmth, to completely relax and let go of all her fears and worries. The idea made for a nice fantasy, but she realized with a growing sense of dread that’s all it would ever be.

  Owen hadn’t spoken a word since asking her to move down. Now that she was sitting with her scars in full view, his silence was distressing. Hannah’s muscles tightened as despair clawed at her throat. Of course he was repulsed by her injuries. Why had she thought he’d react any differently from Jake?

  Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she fisted her hands in the gown, ready to pull it back over her body and cover her destroyed skin. But before she could make a move, something soft brushed across the back of her neck.

  She stilled, focusing hard. It happened again, a gentle, teasing caress, this time accompanied with a huff of warm, humid air.

  Shock flooded her system as Hannah realized that Owen was kissing her. Those were his lips, moving with exquisite care down her neck, over her shoulders and beyond. “So beautiful,” he murmured, humming softly as he drifted across her back. “So lovely.”

  Hannah’s breath left her body on a shuddering sigh, and a fine tremor shook her limbs. Tears ran down to drip off the end of her nose, landing on her hands and soaking into her gown. Owen’s reaction had caught her completely off guard. Never in a million years would she have imagined a man could not only accept her scars but find them beautiful.

  He continued to move down her back, exploring the terrain with kisses, licks, nuzzles. And through it all, he whispered almost reverent words of affection, words that made her feel beautiful and desirable. It had been a long time since she’d felt wanted by a man—so long, she thought she’d forgotten how to respond. But her body remembered, and it warmed under his hands, his mouth. She felt like a flower, turning her face to the sun after a long, cold winter.

  Her muscles softened, growing languid and liquid until holding her head up was a chore. She slumped forward a bit until her forehead rested against her knees, and let out a long sigh. “Owen,” she murmured.

  “Hmm?” He paused but didn’t move away.

  She shook her head weakly, unable to form the words to tell him how much his response meant to her. For the first time in years, she felt normal again.

  Owen’s touch left her back and she whimpered, missing his warmth. “Patience,” he chided, a note of amusement in his voice. She heard the snap of a plastic lid, then the light, slightly floral scent of lotion filled the air. She expected him to start applying the lotion right away, but he didn’t, surprising her once again. He hesitated for a few seconds, then touched her, laying his palms flat against her back. With sure, smooth strokes, he began to spread the now-warm lotion across her back.

  A groan of pleasure rose up her throat. The itchy irritation that had plagued her burn scars vanished under his skilled attention, relief spreading in its wake. She couldn’t decide if it was his hands or the lotion that was the true balm, but as the pleasure spread acros
s her skin, she realized it didn’t matter.

  He moved slowly, teasing her with light then firm strokes, his fingers lingering on the curve of her shoulder, the slope of her back. His touch was everywhere at once, drowning her in sensation. Her head reeled, her thoughts fragmenting and reassembling shards of stained glass. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t piece together a coherent sentence. Finally, she gave up trying to think and embraced the overwhelming storm of physical stimuli, letting it carry her away to another plane of consciousness.

  Gradually, she became aware that the quality of Owen’s movements had changed. The interval between his touches grew longer, and she had the fuzzy realization that he was going to stop. “No,” she protested weakly. She didn’t want him to stop touching her—as long as he kept his hands on her, she could pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist, that it was just the two of them, here in the dark.

  “I’m out of lotion,” he said, his voice deep and soothing.

  “Don’t care,” she mumbled.

  He chuckled, a low rumble that she felt as much as heard. “Aren’t you a greedy one.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  He ran his hands from the top of her shoulders to her waist, then reached around to grab the fabric of her hospital gown. He pulled it up her body and tied the strings back into place. Her modesty thus restored, he laid his hands lightly on her shoulders and gently pulled her back to rest against his chest.

  “Feel better?”

  Hannah tried to respond, but all that came out was a contented sigh. His mouth moved against her ear, curving into a smile. “Me, too.”

  She shifted, snuggling closer to him. It was then she realized that Owen wasn’t as relaxed as she was—or at least, part of him wasn’t relaxed. Wanting to give him the same pleasure he’d given her, she ran her hand up the outside of his thigh, making an inquiring noise in her throat. His hand covered hers, squeezing gently.

  “Rest now,” he said softly, the words warm in her ear. “Just rest.”

  She nodded, releasing her loose grasp on consciousness. As she surrendered to the seductive pull of sleep, she could have sworn Owen spoke again. “Thank you, sweet Hannah.” Before she could puzzle over his word choice, she slipped under, her dreams punctuated by the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against her ear.

  Chapter 12

  “We’re ready here.”

  Owen acknowledged the tech guy with a nod. “Everyone else set?”

  There was a small chorus of affirmative responses, and Owen felt a surge of pride. He really did work with the best guys on the force, and their willingness to step up and support his plan of action both humbled and energized him. “Let’s do this.”

  Nate held out a piece of paper with a phone number. Owen picked up the handset and dialed.

  After an endless moment, someone picked up. “Clinical Associates.” It was a woman, and something about her voice sounded vaguely familiar to him... He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to look at Hannah. She was frowning, and had stepped forward as if she was trying to hear better. Did she recognize the voice?

  The woman repeated her greeting, an edge to her voice. “Uh, yeah,” he stammered. Get back in the game! “I’m a patient at the Thomas Street clinic, and I saw your flyer on the bulletin board. My asthma’s pretty bad, and I was wondering if I could enroll in your trial?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Thirty.”

  “That’s perfect!” The woman sounded pleased now, as if he’d said something particularly clever. “We’d love to have you come in for an initial evaluation.”

  He glanced at Nate, who gave him a thumbs-up. “When can you see me?”

  “Let me see...” She paused, and he heard the click of computer keys. “We actually have an opening today at two. Can you make that?”

  The tactical guy nodded his approval. “Sure can. Where is the office?”

  She rattled off an address, and one of the tech guys quickly pulled it up on a map. The place was about six blocks away from the clinic. “Okay,” Owen said, knowing he needed to wrap up the call. “Do I need to bring any money?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that.” She laughed, and that prickle of awareness intensified, making the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He knew this woman somehow. “The first visit is just an evaluation, to see if you’re a good fit for our study.”

  That didn’t sound promising. He needed to find out if this so-called clinical trial was the real deal or just one more roadblock keeping him from finding the killers. “But my symptoms are pretty bad,” he hedged. “I was hoping to get help right away.”

  “That’s not a problem,” the woman informed him. “If you’re enrolled in the trial, you’ll get your first dose of medication today.”

  Owen nodded, relaxing a bit. Good. That meant they had the chemicals on-site, which would strengthen his case against them. “That’s a relief,” he said. “This spring has just been brutal for me.”

  She laughed again. “We get that a lot. Hopefully we’ll be able to help you.”

  “I guess I’ll find out at two,” he said.

  “See you then.” She hung up, and Owen looked to the tech guy. The man nodded. “She’s using a cell phone, but I was able to narrow down her location. She’s not anywhere near the address she gave you.”

  “Where is she?”

  The man frowned at the monitor. “Near the junction of I-10 and 610. In the northwestern part of the city.”

  Owen leaned forward to look at the screen, hardly daring to breathe. Could it be...? Satisfaction flooded his system as his eyes confirmed what he already knew to be true. There on the screen, near the intersection of I-10 and 610, sat a large complex of buildings.

  ChemCure Industries.

  He looked for Hannah, wondering if she’d made the connection herself. If her pale face and shocked expression were any indication, she had. He reached for her, and she moved to stand next to him, gripping his hand like a lifeline.

  “I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” he murmured.

  She shook her head. “Probably not.”

  “Did that woman’s voice sound familiar to you? I felt like I’d heard her before, but I couldn’t place where.”

  Hannah nodded, her shoulders sagging. “I think you may be right. It sounded just like Shelly Newman.”

  The pieces snapped into place. “Yes! That woman we met in the hall at ChemCure Industries.” He turned to find Nate. “Run a check on Shelly Newman, see if she’s got any outstanding debts, medical bills, bad mortgage. The usual stuff.”

  Nate nodded. “Got it.”

  The tactical officer spoke up. “We’ve got a preliminary plan in place. We’re going to deploy now, scout out the area. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Hannah’s grip on his hand tightened, so he squeezed back, hoping she’d find the gesture reassuring. “Sounds good.”

  “I just can’t believe it,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I thought I knew her. We ate lunch together. She baked me a cake every year for my birthday. She’s not the kind of person to get mixed up in something like this.” She looked up at him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “There must be some mistake. I’m sure the woman who answered the phone just sounds like Shelly. It can’t really be her.” There was a pleading note in her voice, as if she wanted Owen to confirm that this was a simple misunderstanding.

  Sympathy tugged at Owen’s heart. He’d give almost anything to spare Hannah the pain of realizing her former friend was involved in the murders of several innocent people. But he couldn’t lie to her. And as much as this was going to hurt her, she needed to accept the truth.

  He gave her hand a tug, pulling her away from the group and into the small break room that housed the coffeemaker and vending machines that kept the
squad running. He pulled out a chair for her, and she slumped into it, cradling her injured arm. She looked dazed, and he wished he had time to hold her while she absorbed the bad news. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.

  He took a cautious sniff of the dark brew in the coffeepot. It smelled fairly fresh, but more important, it was hot. Moving quickly, he poured a cup and doctored it with some cream and sugar packets. He couldn’t tell if her lack of color was due to residual stress from her accident or the shock of realizing Shelly wasn’t who she seemed to be. Either way, he didn’t want to take a chance that Hannah would faint on him.

  “Here you go.” He pressed the cup into her unresisting hands. She folded her fingers around the plastic, but didn’t take a sip.

  He settled into the chair across from her. “Are you okay?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know anymore.”

  “Fair enough.” He didn’t press her, knowing it wouldn’t help. She needed to process things at her own speed, and his interference would only make it worse.

  “It’s just...I thought I knew Shelly. But now I’m questioning everything. Everyone I ever worked with, all of my time spent at ChemCure Industries. Did I misjudge everyone so completely? And if so, what kind of an idiot does that make me?”

  “First of all, you don’t know for sure that Shelly is involved. It’s possible the woman on the phone wasn’t her.”

  Hannah shot him a skeptical look. “We both know that’s not the case.”

  He lifted one shoulder, refusing to abandon the point. “Until it’s confirmed, we have to assume it could be someone else. But let’s pretend it was Shelly. You don’t know how long she’s been involved. We’ve only been working this case a few weeks, after the first victims showed up. That means it’s possible Shelly’s involvement doesn’t go back very far. And if that’s the case, it’s very likely her hands were clean when she worked with you.”

  “Maybe.” Hannah didn’t sound convinced. “But I still can’t understand why she’d get involved in the first place. It’s so clearly wrong!”