Protective Confinement

“Don’t blame yourself. Even if you had known Russell’s identity, you couldn’t guess his intentions.”

She picked her way carefully through the shards. Her meticulously arranged life was falling apart before her eyes.

“My mother,” she said suddenly. “Does my mother know what happened?”

“I spoke to her yesterday,” Dash said.

Oh, God! “I need to call her right now.”

WHILE SHE WAS IN THE SHOWER, Dash filled in reports and made arrangements. A chopper would be waiting for them at the airport. All he had to do now was convince Cara to go along with his plans.

He turned off the ringer on her telephone. Even though he’d warned the other officers, agents and firemen to keep the abduction quiet, it was only a matter of time before the news leaked. The media would be all over Cara. She was an attractive woman—one who would play well on television.

When she emerged from the bedroom wearing jeans and a soft white tunic, she looked a hundred percent better. In her sneakers, she was even walking with more confidence. The gray of her eyes was less murky.

Her recovery would have been miraculous…if he believed it. Cara was putting up a damn good facade, pretending that she wasn’t in the least traumatized. Later, he knew, she’d crash. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But soon.

She beamed a huge smile, but it wasn’t for his benefit. The big orange tomcat had sauntered into the room.

“Yazzie.” Cara squatted down to his level. “Come here, baby.”

Whipping his tail, the cat bulldozed his way into her waiting arms and allowed himself to be lifted. When he glanced toward Dash, he bared his sharp teeth and hissed.

“Stop it,” she chided the cat. “Dash is one of the good guys.”

Yazzie hissed again.

“Fine with me,” Dash muttered. Pets were a pain in the rear. “I don’t need to be friends with a furry Jabba the Hutt.”

Defensively, she said, “He has a healthy appetite.”

“Obviously.”

She sat at the end of the dining table with the cat sprawled over her lap. “When I talked to my mother in Denver, I convinced her that everything was fine and she didn’t need to come down here and take care of me.”

“That must have taken some convincing.” If he’d had a daughter who’d been held captive by a serial killer, he’d walk through fire to be with her. “Are you and your mother close?”

“Fairly close.” An involuntary grimace tugged at the corner of her mouth. “She was married to my father for only five years. For most of that time, he wasn’t around.”

“She remarried.”

She shot him a curious look. “How do you know that?”

“FBI,” he reminded her. “We know everything.”

“Well, yes. She remarried. My stepfather is a great guy. A doctor. And I have three half sisters. All blond.”

Which made Cara the outsider. He was beginning to understand her need to prove herself. “How much did you tell your mother?”

“Not everything.” She straightened her shoulders and said, “I’m ready to do that formal interview and written report. Let’s get this over with.”

“There’s something we need to discuss first.” There was no easy way to break this news. “Like I said before, you’re an important witness, and you need to be protected. I want to take you to an FBI safe house.”

“Is this one of those protected witness programs? Where you give up your identity?” She shook her head, sending ripples through her thick black hair. “That’s unacceptable.”

“It’s the only way to be sure you’re safe.”

“I can’t pick up and leave. I have responsibilities.” She stroked Yazzie vigorously. “This is the end of the semester. Next week are final exams. I have a ton of papers to be graded.”

Denial was one thing. This attitude was insanity. “We’re dealing with a serial killer. Make no mistake, Cara. He’ll come after you again.”

Her forehead pinched in a frown. “Of course, I don’t want to take risks, but there must be another way. I don’t want to be at a safe house. I want my life back.”

“He’s a serial killer.” Though Dash was trying to be sensitive, he grew impatient. “Trust me. I know what’s best.”

“What if you don’t find him for weeks? I have places I need to be. There’s a Navajo tribal council meeting this Thursday that I can’t miss. My half sister is getting married and I need to go up to Denver for a fitting on my bridesmaid dress.”

“Neither of which is important compared to your personal safety.”

“There must be some other way. I could hire a bodyguard.”

Dash wasn’t about to leave her protection to some half-baked rent-a-cop. He stood and picked up his car keys. “Come with me, Cara. There’s something you need to see.”

IT WAS A SHORT DRIVE to the Broken Bow Resort. In the morning light, the place looked even more seedy and dilapidated than the night before when Dash and his men had charged into an empty bungalow.

“Why are we here?” she asked.

“Russell rented one of these bungalows. We thought he was holding you here.” He shoved open the car door. “Come with me.”

Her gait was halting, and he could see that she was half-exhausted though she wouldn’t admit her weakness to the paramedics or him. Or even to her mother.

As they approached, he nodded toward a motor home. Inside were a couple of agents who were keeping an eye on the place in case Russell returned.

Last night, they’d gone through this door with a battering ram. Though it appeared to be closed, the lock didn’t work. Dash pushed it open and walked into the dingy little room. “Russell isn’t going to give up easily. He wants you, Cara.”

“I know,” she said quietly.

“He’ll do anything to get his hands on you again. Anything.”

In her eyes, he saw a healthy glimmer of fear; she was beginning to comprehend the danger that surrounded her.

In the bedroom, he directed her toward the mirror. “Take a look.”

Taped to the mirror were fourteen snapshots of Cara in various settings. In the classroom. Walking across the campus. Laughing. Poring over a textbook. Each picture was carefully annotated with time and date. The center photo was inside a lipstick heart. Above it all was a neatly printed banner that read: Mine in Life. Mine in Death.

“He’s obsessed with you,” Dash said. “He won’t give up until he has you.”

She turned on her heel and walked out of the bedroom. Her hand covered her mouth, and he thought she might vomit. Her shoulders trembled. In a quiet voice, she said, “We need to return to my house. I’ll need to pack a few things before I go with you.”

“Smart decision.”

“And I want to take Yazzie with me.”

“Fine.”

If it meant getting Cara to safety, he’d agree to a dozen furry orange beasts.

RUSSELL GRAFF WATCHED from the parking lot in front of the diner down the road from the Broken Bow Resort as Cara emerged from the bungalow. She’d found herself a protector, but it wouldn’t do any good. She belonged to him. They were meant to be together.

He pulled his black cowboy hat lower on his forehead. As they drove past, he started his engine. It was a good thing that he was using a rental car. A good thing that he’d burned down the deserted house off Route 24, leaving no trace of evidence.

He merged into traffic and followed them. She was his property. Why didn’t the bitch understand? It looked as if he needed to teach Professor Cara a lesson.

This time, he wouldn’t be so gentle.

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