Dying To Play

He stared at the glass in his hand but didn’t take another drink. He swallowed, hard, the movement of muscle beneath bronzed skin oddly distracting. She looked away.

“We need to clear the air. Keep this professional.”

Anger pinged her. “Are you accusing me of being unprofessional?” she demanded, and instantly wished she could take back the words. This promotion had made her too damned edgy. She went on attack instantly when anyone questioned her job performance.

He blinked, then frowned. “No.” He lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “It’s just that you argue my every suggestion and you seem to resent my mere presence in a room. We’ll never accomplish anything that way.”

She set her glass down on the nearest table and forced a calm voice. “Don’t expect me to go along with all your suggestions,” she warned. “I call it like I see it. As far as your presence, my chief ordered me to work with you, and I will. Any resentment I feel will not affect the investigation.”

He placed his glass next to hers, though the gesture was clearly forced. “All I’m saying is that I don’t want you to overreact to the Bureau’s involvement in this case. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

“I’m a professional,” she said coolly. “This has nothing to do with the Bureau’s involvement. I make my assessments based on what I discover for myself, but I don’t trust until it’s earned. I’ll continue to question your suggestions until I either see it your way or I trust your judgment. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

He almost smiled but didn’t quite follow through with the effort. It amused him when she used his own statements against him. Well, maybe amused wasn’t the right word.

“I guess that’s all I can expect,” he relented.

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.” With Sally on her heels, she walked across the room and paused at the doorway leading to the hall. “We both need some sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I, for one, intend to stay focused on this investigation. So, if there’s nothing else…”

He didn’t move. He didn’t even speak for one long moment. He had more to say, she could see it in his expression, in the determined set of those broad shoulders. The sensual ache from the music was the only sound during the tense standoff.

“You’ve already made up your mind about me.”

The accusation wasn’t spoken in an accusing manner, not openly, anyway. His tone remained low, tightly controlled. But she knew what he was thinking. He wouldn’t have said it otherwise.

“Are you going to tell me that you didn’t get your partner killed?” she suggested. “Because that’s all I’ve been told about you and that was secondhand.” It was only fair to give him a chance to refute what she’d heard. He was her partner, for the time being.

He walked toward her, his steps measured, controlled, just like his voice. When he stopped next to her, he looked straight into her eyes. “You expect me to justify what I did do or deny what I didn’t as told by the media?”

There he went, answering her question with a question. “That would be a start.”

Fury ignited in those blue depths. The blast made her want to step back, but she held her ground. He reined in the outburst right before her eyes. The effort it took visible.

When he’d exiled all emotion from his expression, he said, “A real cop would do more than just talk about making her own assessments based on fact rather than hearsay.”

Clenching her jaw to hold back a scorching rebuttal, Elaine pivoted and stormed into the hall. She refused to admit his statement held any merit. She jerked the front door open, a blatant demand for him to go. “Like you said before, it’s late.”

He made his way to the door but paused directly in front of her before going out. “I guess I was wrong.”

In spite of her anger, this close, that whiskey-smooth voice slid over her like a caress. Reluctantly she met his gaze, the intensity of it almost undoing her bravado as she waited for him to finish what he’d started.

“I really did think you were a good cop.”

Outrage charged through her. She stared hard at him. He stared back, a challenge in his eyes. What the hell did he want from her? “You know what?”

He angled his head in question.

She smiled sweetly. “I don’t care what you think. This is my investigation and we’ll do things my way. End of story.”

“And I’m not supposed to make any waves. Is that it?”

He was somehow closer now. She refused to back off. “That’s it in a nutshell, partner.”

“Well, at least I know where I stand,” he allowed in a tone so low, so lethal that it made her shiver.

She met his intense gaze with lead in her own. Opening the door wider still, she said, “Glad we had this little talk, Callahan.”

Two more tense beats passed before he moved. “Right.”

He walked out.

Elaine slammed the door behind him.

They were surely off on the right foot now.

Chapter 8

Elaine would never get used to the smell of chilled flesh. No matter how many autopsies she attended or corpses she viewed for identification purposes. It was always the same. Her gut wrenched, and it was all she could do to keep down the Starbucks special house blend she’d inhaled en route to the morgue this morning.

Good thing she hadn’t eaten anything solid.

“What’s the bottom line, Walt?”

Walt Damron surveyed his handiwork a moment before responding. Elaine automatically did the same. She knew the routine. As the chief medical examiner he got to pick and choose his cases, leaving the routine work to those under his dominion. And when he did elect to take on a case personally, he did so with much pomp and circumstance. He was the best and he wanted some acknowledgment of that station.

Elaine couldn’t help thinking how sad Brad Matthews looked lying there. Dead. Naked. His sins bared for all to see. Still young by anyone’s standards, his career taking off, a wife and two kids. What went wrong?

A frown furrowed its way across her forehead. He looked healthy in spite of the hideous marbling effect death had left on his skin. Well, and discounting the damage the .38 had done in the vicinity of his brain.

Walt heaved a sigh and started to flip through the pages of his preliminary report. “Toxicology is clean.” He shrugged and set the report aside. “There are a few tests that won’t be back for a day or so, but all in all I don’t expect to find anything useful.” He shook his head and made a tsking sound. “If only I had such a strong heart. Either the man led an exceedingly healthy lifestyle or he was blessed with good DNA.”

Damn. Nothing. “So he just went off the deep end and killed a business associate and that security guard for no reason,” she said, more to herself than to Walt.

“Just like that young woman last week,” the distinguished medical examiner noted quietly.

Elaine shifted, frustrated. The reminder hadn’t been necessary…but there it was. “Thanks, Walt. I appreciate your doing this one personally.”

“Dr. Damron.”

Elaine started at the deep, husky sound of the male voice. She’d forgotten about Callahan. Man, she had to be off this morning to have let him slip her mind. Especially considering he’d hitched a ride with her from the station. She shouldn’t have had that fourth wine cooler before hitting the sack last night. But she’d needed to relax. After Callahan’s visit the feat had been nearly impossible.

Walt stared expectantly across the dissected body of Brad Matthews, waiting for Callahan to continue.

“Any indication of extreme fatigue?”

Walt’s shaggy gray eyebrows knitted thoughtfully. “Nothing out of the ordinary. It would be more speculation than anything for me to suggest that the heavy bags under his eyes or any other outward indication generally associated with stress or fatigue were more than lifestyle or genetics.”

Callahan inclined his inordinately handsome head without a single perfect hair falling out of place. “But you said his general state of health likely indicated an unusually healthy lifestyle.”

“True. But that doesn’t mean that he hadn’t started working too hard or carrying too heavy a stress load more recently.” Walt shrugged. “For that matter, anything’s possible where his mental state was concerned. There was no visible or chemical indication of disease, but he could very well have developed some sort of phobia or mental disorder recently. I can only tell you what I see, what toxicology suggests.”

“Thank you.” Callahan walked out of the room.

Elaine stared after him, bewildered.

“I can’t read the man,” Walt said quietly, his attention focused on the door Callahan had exited. “What do you make of him, Detective?”

“I’m still working on that one,” she admitted. “I’ll let you know.”

Walt made a sound that broadcast his doubt. “I won’t hold my breath.”

Elaine wasn’t holding hers, either. She thanked Walt once more and took her time catching up with Callahan.

This morning when she’d arrived at her office he’d been waiting for her. He’d looked as spit and polished as ever. Charcoal-gray suit jacket over a white shirt and navy slacks. Clean shaven, hair looking as if he’d just stepped out of a salon. He’d shone like a freshly minted silver dollar. That is, if one didn’t look too closely. It had taken only one glance into those unnerving blue eyes to see the truth before he banished the telltale indication.

Callahan was clinging to that edge he’d reportedly gone over two years ago, by the very tips of his fingers. Maybe he wanted or needed to get his professional life back together. His participation in this case might very well be about that more than anything else. Who knew? But one thing was astonishingly clear. He was barely hanging on. One wrong move could send him plummeting back into that private hell he’d apparently climbed out of far too recently for her comfort.

Like Walt said, he was hard as hell to read, so her conclusions were more speculation than anything else. She needed the truth. She needed Callahan to come clean with her. But she didn’t see that happening in this lifetime.

“Detective Jentzen!”

Elaine hesitated at the main entry of the ME’s office and glanced back in the direction from which she’d come. Kathleen, Walt’s secretary, hurried along the corridor toward her.

The smile that pushed into place was genuine. Kathleen was a truly nice lady. Elaine couldn’t help wondering again if the gossip about her and Walt was true. “Good morning,” she offered, having missed the loyal secretary when she first arrived that morning.

Kathleen beamed. “You’re looking well,” she said to Elaine.

It wasn’t until that precise moment that yesterday’s reality slammed into Elaine all over again. It was like waking from a nightmare only to realize the dream had been real. Endometriosis. Surgery. Probably no children. Who wanted a woman incapable of bearing children?

Forty-eight hours ago a husband and children had been the farthest goals from her mind. Why was it that the abrupt idea that she might not be able to achieve either was suddenly so devastating?

Elaine blinked. Reminded herself she had to call Dr. Bramm’s office today. “Thanks. You look terrific yourself.” Clearing her mind of the too personal, too unpleasant thoughts, Elaine focused on the older woman. She did look good. Damn good for a lady closer to seventy than sixty.

Kathleen adopted a knowing expression. “Your mother called. Said she’d been trying to track you down all morning. Your office told her you were over here.”

Elaine had set her cell to vibrate that morning so as not to be disturbed. “Thanks, Kathleen. I’ll call her right away.”

“See that you do.” A secret smile stole across the woman’s lips. “I’d better get back to the office. Dr. Damron can’t find a thing without me. Have a nice day!”

Elaine pushed out into the bright May morning and redirected her thoughts to the case. She’d call her mother when she had some privacy. Right now she had a few questions for Callahan.

He waited by her Jeep. When he caught sight of her he slipped what was clearly an unlit cigarette back into his jacket pocket. The guy had definitely picked a bad time to quit smoking. She quashed the trickle of sympathy. He didn’t deserve her sympathy just yet. And as long as he played devil’s advocate at every opportunity on this case he wouldn’t earn her trust or respect, either.

“What’s the deal, Callahan?” She walked up next to him and folded her arms over her chest, opting not to lean against her vehicle, since it still badly needed that washing and in part because she wanted him to see that she was annoyed.

He lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “What do you mean?”

Okay, so she’d dismissed his every conclusion yesterday. Was he going to hold out on her today? If getting to her was his plan, he’d done a bang-up job so far. She didn’t like this. Didn’t like it one bit. Henshaw didn’t work this way; she didn’t work this way.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

That analyzing gaze locked on to hers then, sending a shiver down her spine despite her best efforts to resist the reaction.

“Why?” he tossed back. “So you can pick apart my theories?”

She shoved a handful of hair behind her ear and puffed out a lungful of frustration. “Look, this isn’t going to work.” She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. “You’re supposed to be working with me not against me. Partners, remember?”

That ghostlike smile that haunted one corner of his carnal mouth and got to her like nothing else could made an appearance. “And here I thought you’d forgotten our little deal.” The smile vanished and those piercing blue eyes turned ice-cold. “I’m not here to make you look good, Jentzen. And I’m damn sure not here to parlay theories for the learning experience or the moral support of the team. I want one thing and one thing only…to bring this guy down.”

Fury detonated on a cellular level, sending tension radiating along every single nerve ending. So he’d spent the night deciding he wanted to play by his own rules. “By guy I assume you mean your old nemesis the Gamekeeper.”

His jaw tightened visibly. “That’s right.”

“Get in.”

He looked surprised at her ferocious tone.

“Where to, partner?” If his tone hadn’t been facetious enough, his expression left no doubt as to how he felt. He hated being stuck with her, having to bend to her wishes.

“Just get in.”

Elaine climbed behind the wheel of her Jeep, anger making her movements stiff. Without uttering another word she drove straight to the only place she could be certain of two things, they wouldn’t be bothered and the territory would be considered neutral by both parties.

Jimmy’s Pub was a bit off the beaten path, on Cone Street in downtown Atlanta. But being a third-generation cop, Elaine knew the right places to go for anonymity as well as camaraderie. Though Jimmy’s was best known for its beer and old-fashioned-style burgers, the doors opened at ten every morning for the early lunchers. Or maybe just to make sure cops had a reliable place to go and discuss business that required distance from the office or nosy colleagues.

“Burger and a cola,” she told the waiter who paused at their table the moment they sat down. If his T-shirt was any indication the guy was a student at a local university. His jeans were well-worn, and he had that harried look of a full-time student, part-time employee, working hard to balance his schedule with homework commitments and the undying hope for a decent social life.

Callahan looked to her for counsel. “Try it,” she told him. “The burgers here are the best.” She lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you’re a vegetarian.”

“I’ll have the same,” Callahan said to the waiter who nodded and moved on.

Patronage at the pub was light today. The main lunch crowd wouldn’t filter in until after noon, she imagined. That was one of the primary reasons Elaine preferred to skip breakfast and go for an early lunch, it cut wait time down to half. She didn’t recognize any of the patrons seated around the large dining area or at the long bar. Good. That way she didn’t have to worry about anyone horning into the conversation. She thought immediately of Flatt and Jillette and how they no doubt waited in the wings for an opportunity to try and take this case from her. Then again, she considered, why the hell didn’t she just let them have it?

“Why did you ask Walt about stress and fatigue?” She cut to the chase, pushing worries about her two disloyal colleagues to the back burner. “You have to know how difficult it is to judge those kinds of indicators with any real accuracy.”

To Callahan’s credit he didn’t look away. He held her gaze, but he did keep his expression carefully blank of what he might or might not be thinking.

“It’s his MO,” he said flatly.

Surprised, Elaine offered, “The Gamekeeper’s?”

Callahan nodded. “He picks his targets, then he wears them down until they feel they have no choice but to do his bidding. They just don’t have what it takes to keep fighting the inevitable.”

She studied him a moment, tried to determine if he was ready for her to hit him with the big guns. No way to know. Only one way to find out. “So you think the beauty salon murders as well as the ones at the bank yesterday are all tied to this Gamekeeper?”

He nodded again, his posture visibly braced for her arguments.

“But how? We don’t have the first lick of evidence to even connect the two.” This was nuts. Sure there was that one glaring similarity. Both shooters had walked into a place of business and killed for no apparent reason. Still, that was only one link. Were all drive-by shootings in urban areas connected merely because they were carried out in the same manner? Definitely not.

“There’s your link,” he offered with absolutely no hesitation. “He likes it that way.”

Elaine shook her head in renewed frustration. “I’m going to need more than that, Callahan.”

The waiter stopped at their table long enough to deposit two sweating glasses of cola. “Burgers’ll be out in a couple minutes.”

Elaine hastily thanked him so he’d move on and Callahan would start talking again.

“Think about your shooters,” he told her, his gaze boring into hers. “Both were on their way up. Had the world by the tail. Their lives were seemingly perfect. Why would they do this? Why throw everything away?”

“We wouldn’t be sitting here if I knew the answer to that,” she snapped. “Get to the point.”

“That’s what the Gamekeeper does. He selects those who have everything going for them, the cream of the crop, then he lures them in. He likes the challenge.”

“And you would know this based on…?” she pressed, still seeing no concrete reasoning behind his conclusion.

“Because he killed people in D.C. that way. He selected each player with the utmost care, then he reeled him or her in, and then it was over.”

Elaine remembered a number of highly publicized details of the case. “But this Gamekeeper killed his players himself, right? There were no suicides involved.”

Callahan’s fierce expression went blank again. “That’s right.”

When Elaine would have spoken again, he cut her off. “Don’t bother with the serial-killers-don’t-change-their-routine excuse,” he said, a distinct edge in his tone. “I’ve had that load of crap shoved down my throat until I could puke. They do, at times, change their methods.” Callahan sipped his drink, taking his time. Perhaps more to give himself a moment to calm down than to quench his thirst. “It’s possible that I wounded him badly enough that he has no choice but to do things differently this time.”

She gave her head another shake. “I’m sorry, Callahan, I just can’t accept that conclusion without more than you’re offering. Granted, we need to follow up on that possibility, but I’m not going to assume he’s the one based on such meager reasoning.”

He leaned back in his seat, his expression going to victorious in one fluid motion. “I see. So we’ll follow up on all our other leads. Consider all those other options first.”

Ire tore through her again. He knew as well as she did that they had no other leads or options. “After we interview Matthews’s wife, we’ll outline a strategy.” The new widow had been sedated after hearing the news. Her personal physician had assured Elaine that she would be up and ready to speak with the police by noon today. Another reason for an early lunch. The woman’s mother had picked up the children and would be caring for them for a couple of days.

Mother.

Damn, she had to touch base with her mom.

Callahan directed his attention back to his glass of cola. “Whatever you say.”

Wow. Now that was cooperation. Too bad she knew he didn’t mean it.

“I have to make a personal call.”

She started to push up from the table but one look into his eyes told her that he suspected it was only an excuse to make some call related to the case behind his back. Damn. She supposed she didn’t deserve his trust just yet, either.

Slumping back into her chair she fished out her cell phone. Six missed calls. Elaine frowned. What the hell could be so urgent that her mother would keep calling like that? For the first time since Kathleen had given Elaine the message, a new kind of anxiety strong-armed its way into her too busy morning. She’d been so focused on this case that she hadn’t considered something might really be wrong.

With a flick of one finger she’d entered the speed dial number for home. Not the place where she lived with Sally, but the home where she’d grown up with three brothers and one sister. Her mother’s pleasant voice on the other end of the line immediately alleviated the pressure on Elaine’s chest. Surely if something were wrong she wouldn’t sound so calm.

“It’s me.” Elaine took a deep, calming breath. “Sorry I missed your calls. What’s up?”

“We need to talk.”

Those four little words struck renewed fear in Elaine’s heart. There was something about the tone—or lack thereof— that jarred her most deeply entrenched instincts.

“Is something wrong?”

“Can you come by for an early lunch?” her mother asked, smoothly avoiding her daughter’s question.

Just then the waiter plopped the heavy stoneware plates on the table, Jimmy’s famous burgers literally steaming in their griddle toasted buns.

“Sure, I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Elaine assured her before disconnecting. She stared at the phone for a moment before dropping it back into her purse. Her gut knotted up and did some screaming of its own. She swallowed hard and wondered if she’d remembered to bring that new bottle of antacid.

“Everything okay?”

Her gaze shifted to her new partner. She couldn’t help wondering if she looked as guarded as he did. How the hell were they going to conduct this investigation when they didn’t trust each other for an instant?

“I don’t know.”

There wasn’t much that scared Elaine, but this terrified her.

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