walking them all now.” She pulled her coat collar closer around her slender neck. “I hate this weather. I’ve got a date with a beach in Florida at the end of next week and I can’t wait to get in a bathing suit and enjoy a fruity, fun alcoholic beverage.”
“Then I guess you’ll need to hurry to solve this case in time to get to the beach,” he replied. He took another couple of steps then halted when he realized she wasn’t with him.
He turned around. She stood stock-still, her green eyes narrowed as if he was a puzzling crime scene she was analyzing. “Are you normally a jerk or are you just acting like one especially for me?”
Despite the cold air, a wave of warmth filled his cheeks. “No, I’m not normally a jerk,” he replied. He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “But I guess I have been acting like one since you arrived and I apologize.” He had to admit to himself that he’d been a bit antagonistic with her. It wasn’t her fault she was here. She was just doing her job like he was trying to do his.
“Apology accepted,” she said easily and grinned. “Can I expect more jerk from you or are you over it now?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “It’s not you personally.”
Her grin widened. “Trust me, I didn’t think it was about me personally. You haven’t known me long enough to have attitude with me, although I’m sure if I’m here for a few more days that will eventually come.”
He gazed at her curiously. “Why? Are you difficult to work with?”
“I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.” Her smile fell and she wrapped her arms around her chest. “Look, I get it that you probably aren’t happy about FBI presence here. But I am here, and we might as well try to work together to solve these murders. Now, can we get on with this? I’m freezing my tush off.”
And a fine tush it was, Gabriel thought as they continued walking on the narrow trail. Within minutes they were at the spot where Samantha Kent’s body had been found.
“The trees were still fairly full of leaves when she was killed,” he said. “Although you can see the cabins from here now, they weren’t visible at the time of the murder.”
Once again Jordon silently surveyed the scene. “She didn’t scream or cry out for help? Nobody heard anything?”
“Nobody admitted to hearing anything. She was attacked from behind like Rick. She didn’t have a single defensive wound and Billy didn’t see or hear anyone else in the woods when he found her.” The frustration of the cases burned in his stomach as once again his mind provided a memory of this particular crime scene.
Samantha had already been carried away to the hospital by the time Gabriel had arrived on scene, but her blood had stained the autumn leaves where she had fallen, transforming this piece of beautiful woods to a place of haunting, violent death.
“I’ve seen enough,” Jordon said softly.
They were both silent as he led her to unit number three, where Sandy Peters had been found stabbed in her bed.
“Wow. Nice room,” Jordon said after they’d stomped the snow off their boots and stepped inside. They both had donned gloves and bootees, as the room was still officially a crime scene.
“All the rooms are this nice,” he replied. He stood by the door as Jordon wandered the area.
A king-size log bed was the center focal point, along with a stone fireplace and a sunken Jacuzzi tub for two. The bed had been stripped down to the mattress, but Sandy’s suitcase was still open on one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, and a thick pink robe still hung on a coat tree next to the dresser.
He’d kept things intact in the room as much as possible for Jordon’s perusal, although his men had already taken Sandy’s cell phone and computer and the bedclothes into evidence. The room had been gone over with a fine-tooth comb and fingerprinted, so this evening he’d have some of his men clear the rest of Sandy’s things from the room.
Jordon disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and then reappeared and stared at the tub, where a little basket held packets of bubble bath and two wineglasses with a bottle of white wine perched on the tile.
“There was obviously not a struggle.” It was a statement of fact rather than a question.
“And the door wasn’t forced,” he replied. “It appears that she opened the door and was immediately stabbed. She fell backward to the bed and the attack continued there. She was stabbed a total of twelve times.”
A frown danced across Jordon’s features. “Overkill... That indicates a rage.”
He nodded. “The same kind of rage was evident with the other two victims, as well.”
“And the time of death?”
“The coroner placed it between around midnight and five in the morning,” he replied. “Hannah, the owners’ fifteen-year-old daughter, saw Sandy leaving the guest shed at around nine in the evening. She had a soda in her hand and told Hannah she planned on being up late working.”
“What was Hannah doing out and about at that time of night in this weather?”
“One of her jobs here is to make sure the refrigerator is restocked each evening. She was later than usual that night.” He looked toward the window where dusk had moved in. “I’ve arranged interviews with all the staff here to start in the morning at eight. In the meantime, we should get you settled in for the night. I’ve made arrangements for you to stay at a motel not far from here.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Why would I stay at another motel? I’m assuming there are vacant rooms here?”
“Yes, but there is also a killer using this bed-and-breakfast as his personal playground.”
“All the more reason for me to stay here,” she replied.
Gabriel frowned. “I really don’t like the idea. I think it would be much better if you stayed somewhere else.”
“I’ll be fine here. I’m armed and I’m trained. Just get me a key and point me to a room.”
The burn in his gut intensified. Even though he barely knew Jordon, he recognized the stubborn upward thrust of a chin, the resolute shine in her eyes.
The killer was savvy enough not to leave any evidence behind. In savagely murdering three people he hadn’t made any mistakes that Gabriel had been able to find.
The last thing Gabriel wanted was for FBI Special Agent Jordon James to become the fourth victim.
When they returned to the main dining room, two adults and two teenagers awaited them. Gabriel introduced them as owners Ted and Joan Overton and their two children, fifteen-year-old Hannah and seventeen-year-old Jason.
“I made fresh coffee and some sandwiches,” Joan said as she and her husband jumped up from the table where they’d been seated. She hurried over to stand next to the table with the coffeemaker and twisted her hands together as if unsure what to do next.
“Thank you—I’d love a cup,” Jordon said. “And the sandwiches look wonderful.” Joan’s pretty features lit up as if she was pleased to be able to serve somebody.
“We’ve canceled all of our reservations for the next two weeks,” Ted said. Jordon took a seat across from him and Gabriel sat next to Jason.
“There weren’t that many to cancel,” Joan said as she set a cup of coffee in front of Jordon and then sat next to her husband. “This is our slowest time of year, but reservations had already fallen off because of the bad publicity we’ve received. Social media is destroying us.”
“Your