Double-Edged Detective. Mallory Kane

       Chapter Two

      Albert Moser entered his house through the garage and headed straight for the photo album. He knew the man who’d come to Nicole Beckham’s rescue tonight. He’d seen him somewhere, he was sure.

      The encroaching date on the calendar had sent him out looking for Nicole Beckham. He was ninety-nine percent sure she hadn’t seen his face a year ago. Still, she was unfinished business.

      He knew where she worked, so he’d waited outside the restaurant until it closed and she emerged. He was delighted when he saw that she was walking home. He’d figured it would be easy to follow her and force his way into her apartment as she unlocked the door.

      But then a small drama had unfolded, and Albert realized Nicole Beckham had a protector. And not just any protector—a cop. He’d grabbed the kid who’d been walking behind Nicole, cuffed him and called a couple of his buddies to take the kid in. Meanwhile, Albert was able to get a good look at his face.

      He’d seen him before.

      He sat down with the photo album and thumbed through all the newspaper clippings he’d saved from the murders. He’d seen that cop before. It could have been several years ago, during the brief time the police were investigating his daughter’s murder. Or maybe his picture had been in the newspaper.

      It didn’t matter where he’d seen him. What mattered was, he was a cop and he was watching out for Nicole. Did that mean the police were finally taking the murder of young women seriously?

      If so, then Albert had to be doubly vigilant, and doubly careful. He sorted through the six insurance forms, looking at the birth dates. He narrowed his choice down to two, both of whom had been born on the twenty-fifth day of October, three days after his daughter.

      THE NEXT MORNING, Deputy Chief Mike Davis of the St. Tammany Parish Sheriff’s Office satellite office in Chef Voleur leaned back in his desk chair and frowned at Ryker. “I just got off the phone with Lieutenant James Faraday in Mandeville.”

      “Yes, sir?”

      “Don’t give me ‘yes, sir.’ Tell me what you were doing arresting a kid in Mandeville at midnight last night. And don’t tell me this has anything to do with your serial killer obsession.”

      “I’m afraid I can’t do both, sir.”

      Mike scowled. “What the hell are you doing?”

      “I was off duty. I observed a kid accosting—someone. He was acting drunk or high. I dispatched a couple of locals to run him in.”

      Mike Davis sighed and sat up straight. “And the someone? That wouldn’t be that young woman whom you’ve been stalking, would it?”

      Ryker studied the toes of his shoes. “The victim of last year’s foiled attack. Yes, sir.”

      “Didn’t I refuse your request to provide protection for her?” Mike’s voice rose in volume.

      “As I said, I was off duty,” Ryker said mildly. Mike couldn’t tell him what to do on his own time, but Ryker didn’t like bucking authority. He believed in going by the book. He also believed Nicole’s life was in danger.

      And that belief took priority over any other.

      “You’re going to give me apoplexy, Detective Delancey.”

      Ryker wasn’t sure what apoplexy was, but he’d already noticed Mike’s red ears, a sure sign of an impending explosion. Now the redness was creeping down his neck and up his cheeks.

      “Sir, I know that the man who broke into Nicole Beckham’s apartment last year is the same man who killed those other women. I know it.”

      Mike sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’ve already told you, my hands are tied. If I combine the cases and make it official that we believe the deaths are the work of one man, I’ll have to appoint a task force, and involve the district attorney’s office. The media will be all over us.”

      “Women are dying.”

      “Not to mention that we’re shorthanded already. I need more evidence—a lot more.”

      “Damn it, Mike. How much more evidence will it take? For four years he’s struck during the same week in October. It’s always a nighttime home invasion, always when the women are alone. And they were all born in October.”

      “I thought one of them was born on November 1.”

      Ryker gritted his teeth. “One day.”

      “I understand what you’re saying, but there’s not enough consistency. You can’t connect the women. You’ve got different weapons, different dates.” Mike stood. “And it doesn’t help your case that you have a history with one of the victims.”

      “It was a few dates back in college. I hadn’t seen her in—”

      Mike held up a hand. “Spare me. I’ve heard it before. Now I’ve got a meeting. This discussion is over.”

      “Fine.” Ryker blew out a frustrated breath. “Within the week, he’ll strike again, and I’ll get you your evidence. It’s a shame that another woman has to die to convince you.”

      “Get out of here, before I fire your ass.”

      Ryker beat a hasty retreat. Mike couldn’t fire him. Not without cause. But he understood his deputy chief’s frustration.

      Even so, there was no way he was going to leave Nicole unprotected. It was October 21. Within the next few days, he fully expected the killer to strike again. There was no way he could stop him. But he’d be damned if the victim was Nicole.

      THAT NIGHT AS NICOLE EXITED the restaurant, Ryker fell into step beside her.

      She jumped and pressed her hand to her chest.

      “I see you paid no attention to me,” he remarked. “I told you to drive.”

      “I see you’re still following me.”

      “Somebody has to look out for you if you aren’t going to take care of yourself.”

      She sped up. He was surprised her heels didn’t strike sparks off the sidewalk. “I do not intend to act like a victim,” she threw back over her shoulder.

      Ryker easily caught up to her. “Taking reasonable precautions is not acting like a victim.”

      “I take reasonable precautions.”

      “Walking alone at midnight is not a reasonable precaution.”

      Nicole stopped at the stairwell that led up to the second-floor landing of her apartment building. “Look, Detective. After the break-in, I was so spooked that I gave up my job and my apartment. I will never feel that way again.”

      He saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. “I understand. Is that offer for a cup of coffee still open? I’d like to tell you about this killer.”

      Her eyes widened and shimmered. “Why? To terrify me?”

      He shook his head. “No. To prepare you, in case he comes back to finish what he started.”

      She shuddered. “In other words, to terrify me.”

      He knew his words were harsh, but at this point, with only a few days’ window for the next attack, he’d do anything to get her attention. “If you insist on looking at it that way. But the more you know, the better prepared you’ll be.”

      She swallowed and pressed her lips together as she studied his face. “Fine. Please,” she said wryly. “By all means, come in and have a cup of coffee and