Chasing the Violet Killer Read online

  Dylan, who had made himself comfortable by taking a seat in her uncle’s favorite log rocking recliner, gave her a reproving look. “No one, least of all me, is doubting your capabilities and you’re certainly much more than a frightened little rabbit. Be that as it may, I still think it’s best to err on the side of caution.”

  Naomi put her resistance on hold for a moment. “How cautious are we talking about?”

  “Maybe you could stay at a hotel or—” Dylan stopped on a dime, leaving Naomi to read between the lines.

  “With you?” Her eyes widened at the implication, as though it was the worst possible thing he could suggest. She warmed in imagining them living together—even if only temporarily. It was something they had once talked about, when dating seriously as a prelude to getting married. But the proposal never came. Had he gotten cold feet, in spite of hinting at such? She wondered if it would have made a difference if he had asked her to marry him. Would she have said yes and dashed her plans to work for the Secret Service?

  “Hadn’t meant to suggest anything of the sort,” he claimed smoothly. “It’s not a half-hearted come-on, I promise. We’ve been over and done with for two years now. I get that. It is what it is. That said, I do have plenty of room and a guest bedroom at my house. It’s by the lake, has a nice security system and isn’t likely to attract unwanted visitors. I would be happy to play host during your stay in town. I just want you to be safe, Naomi. I owe that much to Roger.”

  Though she found his offer more than a little tempting, Naomi gave him a firm, “Thanks but no thanks, Dylan. I’m a member of the US Secret Service, more than capable of protecting myself from any threat that comes my way. If the person who killed my uncle wants to come after me, too, he is welcome to try. I have my gun and know how to use it. I’m also trained in hand-to-hand combat and jujitsu. So, I’m not going anywhere.” Naomi sighed, while trying hard not to show him that in spite of everything she just said, having a demented serial killer possibly set his sights on her was still very unsettling. To say the least.

  “Well, you’ve made your case admirably,” Dylan said, his voice spiced with sarcasm and resignation. “As you already seem to have your mind made up in the stubborn tradition of your uncle, I won’t persist in trying to dissuade you from staying.”

  Naomi smiled thinly. “In following Uncle Roger’s footsteps, I’ll take that as a badge of honor,” she said proudly.

  “It is,” he agreed and got to his feet. “Just be careful.”

  “I will be.” She knew his concern for her welfare was genuine. As was hers for his health and well-being, the awkwardness of the moment to go with their estrangement as a couple notwithstanding.

  Dylan stepped closer. “Do you need any help with the arrangements, now that Roger’s body has been released to the funeral home?”

  Truthfully, Naomi had barely wrapped her head around the idea that her uncle was dead and, as his only living relative, she would need to step up and see to it that he had a proper burial. But that wouldn’t stop her from doing what needed to be done. “I think I can handle it,” she responded placidly. “Uncle Roger purchased a burial plot right next to my parents’ resting place in the cemetery. He wanted to be buried beside his brother, whom he was very close to.”

  “Okay.” Dylan nodded thoughtfully. “I have to go. If you run into any problems along the way, you have my number.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she promised, feeling the warmth from their close proximity. She took an involuntary step backward lest she allow a desire to touch him cloud her judgment that it was best to leave the past where it was. “Please keep me abreast on the investigation into Uncle Roger’s death.”

  “I will.” He put his hands together. “Roger’s SUV should be released shortly, after forensics is finished combing it for possible evidence pertaining to the crime. I’m sure he’d want you to have it—so long as you need transportation while you’re in town.”

  “Thank you.” Naomi imagined it would feel weird driving her uncle’s SUV, knowing he would never be behind the wheel himself again. It was just another adjustment she would need to make, difficult as it was.

  Dylan glanced over at the bag where she had placed her firearm and grinned out of the side of his mouth. “I’m guessing you finished at the head of your class among Secret Service agents in firearms training?”

  “Close enough,” Naomi admitted, actually taking second place, just behind her friend Sophia. “It’s an ongoing process throughout every agent’s career with the Service.”

  “Figured as much, as it’s the same for those of us in the Pebble Creek PD.”

  She gazed at him in earnest. “I really wouldn’t have shot you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She hoped he knew deep down inside that she would always care for him enough to stay out of harm’s way, including bullet wounds.

  “Nice to know.” He held her gaze with a straight look. “The last thing I need is to be mistaken for the bad guy where you’re concerned.”

  “You were never the bad guy, Dylan.” She wanted to make this clear to him. “My leaving wasn’t about you.” She thought he understood that. Or had this just been wishful thinking on her part?

  “I know—that’s what you told me.” Skepticism rang from his tenor.

  “It was true.” Her voice did not waver. The last thing Naomi ever wanted was for him to think that their breakup was a reflection of her no longer wanting them to be together. Couldn’t have been further from the truth. In an ideal world, they both could have had it all, beginning with each other. But in this real world, she was forced to choose one path over another, painful as it was. So she did, knowing she would have to live with the consequences, for richer or poorer. Sickness or health. Love or loss.

  “I just wish we had talked about it more,” Dylan asserted, as if still carrying a mighty chip on his broad shoulder.

  Naomi winced, wishing they didn’t have to deal with this now. What more was there to say? Would it have made any difference had he asked her to stay? Had she needed to hear those powerful words come out of his mouth? No matter. It was too late now for what never happened. Wasn’t it?

  “There’s no point in going there, Dylan,” Naomi argued, fighting off the feelings of guilt that gnawed at her like a final exam she needed to pass or risk failure.

  His jaw clenched. “I get it, you’ve moved on.”

  “Haven’t you?” she assumed pensively in meeting his hard eyes.

  Dylan shifted his gaze and took a deep breath before returning to her face. “Yeah, I guess I have.”

  Had she expected him to say otherwise when giving him no reason not to move on with his life? She wondered miserably what his current girlfriend looked like. Gorgeous, Naomi supposed. Probably sexy, too. She’d never asked her uncle specifically about Dylan’s personal life, not sure she wanted to know.

  The idea of another woman stealing Dylan’s heart, soul and bed bothered Naomi more than she’d realized. Till now.

  * * *

  THROUGH HIGH-POWERED BINOCULARS, the Violet Killer watched inconspicuously from a safe distance atop an uneven hill, behind a cluster of large ferns. He saw the dark-haired, tall police detective step outside the house with the striking niece of Roger Lincoln. She looked even better than he remembered. And better than the images Lincoln had of her on his computer, which was now in the possession of the Violet Killer. Along with incriminating information that could have exposed him to the local authorities and FBI agents trying to track him down like a wild animal on the loose. He sensed the overprotectiveness of Detective Dylan Hester as though he was determined not to let her slip from his grasp and into the arms of a killer. But the detective’s efforts would prove futile. As they had with the others the Violet Killer had set his sights on. Now that Lincoln’s niece had become the latest object of his affections—and long overdue at that—the Violet Killer intended to settle for nothing less than to see to it that Naomi Lincoln joined his other violets in blissful death.

  But all in good time. Fortunately, patience had been his virtue for the past two years, serving him well when he needed it most, against his worst instincts. He wasn’t about to get too overeager or cocky to his own detriment. Not when half the fun was watching and waiting like a lion and its helpless prey, till the perfect time to strike. By then, it would be too late to do anything other than accept her fate. Until then, he would continue to hide in plain view, loving the attention he was getting and the satisfying fear he had brought upon the citizens of Pebble Creek. Especially the women, many of whom had become afraid of their own shadows.

  The Violet Killer gazed through the binoculars as the pretty Secret Service agent headed back into the house and the police detective casually walked away and got into his vehicle. He sat in it for a while as though reluctant to leave, and the killer could only imagine what steps he was taking to try to keep Lincoln’s niece out of harm’s way. Try all he wished, but it would make no difference when all was said and done. Naomi Lincoln was living on borrowed time before she joined her uncle—who overplayed his hand and paid for it—in the grave.

  The Violet Killer furtively stepped away from the bushes and coolly made his way down the other side of the hill and to his own car. Inside, he started it and was on his merry way, while making plans as he usually did in staying one step ahead of everyone else.

  Chapter Four

  Dylan sat in his car for a long moment outside Roger’s house, regretting that he had let things get personal with Naomi. He had no right to act like a bitter ex, even if part of him felt that way. He hadn’t exactly fought hard to keep her there in Pebble Creek, thinking it best not to stand in the way of a dream she worked hard to achieve. Never mind if it came at the expense of asking her to marry him and all that might have occurred afterward as husband and wife. Not to mention father and mother, had they decided to go in that direction. But that was two years ago and their beds had been made. Right now, he needed to stay focused and give Naomi what she really needed from him: capturing the man who murdered her uncle. This, of course, would achieve the added goal of stopping the Violet Killer in his tracks, hopefully before any more young women could be lost. Including Naomi herself, who Dylan believed was a potential target for the killer.

  After starting the car, Dylan drove off. He got on the speaker of his cell phone and ordered investigators to come to Roger’s house with Naomi’s consent to dust for fingerprints that might not belong and other possible indicators that it was part of the homicide that took place at Roger’s office—including running a sweep for any illegal surveillance or audio equipment. With that in motion, Dylan rang Detective Gregory Hwang.

  “Is Naomi here?” he asked curiously.

  “Yeah. Just left her at Roger’s house,” Dylan informed him, wishing they could have spent more time talking, against his better judgment.

  “How’s she holding up?”

  “About as well as you might expect when you’re a virtual eyewitness to your only living relative being gunned down.”

  “Yeah, figured as much,” grumbled Hwang.

  Dylan concurred, feeling helpless at the thought of losing his good friend. “What did you come up with on the security cameras inside or outside Roger’s building?”

  “Not much we can use, I’m afraid. A camera inside wasn’t working and one outside showed movement around the time in question, but so far everyone we’ve been able to identify checked out as far as what they were doing there and when. We’ve extended the perimeter in checking out other surveillance cameras in the area that might have picked up something.”

  “Good.” Dylan sighed, sensing that the killer was too clever to make himself easy to pick out of the crowd, much less identify, without some effort. Especially given his almost uncanny ability to go after young women with near impunity. “Naomi got a text message from Blue Violet, claiming he was watching her. Must have homed in on her after stealing Roger’s cell phone.”

  “You think he’s actually going after Naomi next...?” Hwang’s voice dropped an unnerved octave.

  “At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past the unsub,” admitted Dylan, wishing he could feel otherwise. “What better way to really get under our skin than targeting Naomi as another way to show his total disregard for the law, while challenging us to stop him?”

  “Are you planning to let Naomi stay with you while in town, to be on the safe side?” Hwang asked curiously.

  It was a reasonable question that Dylan would have expected from the detective, who knew that his fondness for Naomi had never wavered, their differences aside. And that protecting her from a madman was a priority. Too bad she couldn’t see it that way at the moment. “Right now, she wants to stay put,” he said, acquiescing to this. “For the time being, I’d like to beef up patrols in the area and keep tabs on her.”

  “I’ll put in the request,” Hwang agreed. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Hope not.” Dylan knew that with the serial killer investigation underway, the department’s manpower was being stretched thin. Maybe the perp was counting on this to terrorize Naomi right under their noses. Dylan wasn’t about to allow that to happen. Not if he could help it.

  After disconnecting, Dylan headed for the Pebble Creek Police Department crime laboratory, where the bullet removed from Roger’s head had been analyzed, along with the shell casing found at the scene of the crime. Dylan saw this as an important step in trying to identify the unsub, who in an apparent act of desperation went away from his normal MO in shooting Roger to death.

  Entering the modern lab, Dylan was greeted by George Suina, a forensic and firearms analyst and full-blooded Pueblo Indian, who had been with the department for nearly a decade. His jet-black hair, just grazing narrow shoulders, belied his midfifties age. “Hey, Dylan,” he said in a friendly tone. “Bet I know why you’re here.”

  Dylan grinned humorlessly. “You know me too well, George. What have you got for me?”

  “Plenty.” His sable eyes widened teasingly. “Come with me.”

  Dylan followed him to a workstation, where Suina had a monitor on, with a split screen overhead. “Looks like you were spot-on, Dylan, in linking the bullet casing you found with the bullet taken out of Roger Lincoln. On the right side of the screen is an image of the mangled bullet removed from Lincoln’s head,” explained Suina. “It was fired from a gun barrel with four lands and grooves and had a left-hand twist.” He turned to the other side of the screen as Dylan observed attentively an image of a shell casing. “As you suspected, the ballistic markings on the .45 ACP casing you located are a perfect match with those from the bullet that killed Roger Lincoln. Or, in other words, both came from the same gun.”

  Dylan nodded sullenly. “Figured as much. Looks like our serial killer unsub is packing a .45 ACP handgun...and is more dangerous than ever.” Not to mention likely being in possession of Roger’s Ruger Blackhawk revolver as well. Meaning there was an even greater sense of urgency in bringing him down. “I don’t suppose you were able to pull any prints off the bullet or shell casing?”

  “No such luck, I’m afraid.” Suina shook his head, frowning. “On the fingers-crossed side of things, though, with the good possibility that the shooter used the same weapon before, we’ve entered the bullet and shell casing evidence into the ATF’s National Integrated Ballistic Information Network, with the aim of getting a hit on the firearm and triggerman.”

  “One can only hope,” Dylan said and crossed the fingers on both hands theatrically in support of this effort. Having worked previously with the ATF or Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, he knew they were a great federal partner in the war on crime. Maybe this case would be no exception in achieving results. But he wasn’t expecting miracles, either, knowing that the unsub was not going to make this easy for them to bring him down, having proved that after two years of serial murdering. But he had made a tactical error in going after Roger, and it just might be the first step to his undoing.

  * * *

  AFTER DYLAN LEFT, Naomi put aside her unease to finish unpacking. She wondered if it had been a mistake not to take up his offer of refuge. Was she letting her pride get in the way of common sense? On the other hand, wasn’t that putting the cart ahead of the horse to allow paranoia to run her out of the house prematurely? Till proven otherwise, she had to assume that her uncle’s house—soon to be hers if she read him correctly when alive—was safe enough to go about her business, knowing that she had self-protection, should it come to that.

  Just as she was trying to decide what to have for dinner, with the pickings in the refrigerator rather slim, Naomi jumped when she heard the doorbell ring. Her first instinct was to go for her weapon. That thought quickly subsided as she looked out the peephole and recognized one of the three people standing there—one woman and two men—as being Tabitha McKinnon, a crime scene investigator for the Pebble Creek PD from when Naomi did some work for them as a crime victims service coordinator. Dylan had given her a heads-up that they were on their way to dust for prints and check for bugs, but she had spaced out on this with different things on her mind. She noted they were carrying equipment for their assignment.

  Naomi opened the door and greeted them with a smile. “Hey, Tabitha.” She singled her out, having to look up at the tall, thirtysomething woman with butterscotch-blond hair cut short with curtain bangs.

  “Hi, Naomi. Nice to see you again. Sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  “So am I.” Naomi eyed the two men, also in their thirties. One was a tall Hispanic, his dark thick hair worn in a pompadour style. The other was African American, even taller, with a jet-black flat top. Tabitha introduced them as Detective Raymond Cruz and forensic science technician Vince Iverson, respectively.