Dakota Meltdown

She’d do her best to maintain her distance from Agent Tarver. He looked as if he could chew her up and spit her out if she crossed the line. Besides, she didn’t have time to play push-me-pull-you with him. A maniac was on the loose and her job was to find him before he abducted someone else.

Brenna slipped into a pair of flip-flops and padded down the hotel hallway to the glassed-in area with the heated pool. When she pushed through the doors, she was engulfed in a thick wave of humidity and the acrid scent of chlorine. She dropped her towel beside the pool and dove in.

Fifteen laps later and still no closer to a clear mind, she surfaced and grabbed the side of the pool. When she raised her hand to brush the stinging chlorine from her eyes, an iron grip clamped onto her wrist and she was jerked from the water.

Her heart in her throat and her eyes still cloudy with pool chemicals, Brenna struggled to plant her feet on the decking. Once she gained traction, she dropped into a football lineman stance and plowed into her attacker. Hit square in the gut, he fell backward to the ground.

Brenna staggered to regain her balance and stared down at Nick Tarver lying still on the hard concrete floor, his eyes closed.

Jeez, had she knocked him out?

Dropping to her knees, she stared down at his chest, looking for any sign of movement. None. Her heart beat loudly against her eardrums as she leaned forward to feel for the gentle puff of air blowing in and out through his nose.

Nick Tarver wasn’t breathing!

CPR training kicked in and Brenna tipped his head back. Pinching his nose, she sealed her lips over his and blew a long breath into his lungs, turning to see his chest rise as she did.

Before she could blow another breath, his arms clamped around her and she was flipped onto her back, their lips still connected. The air blasted out of her lungs and she lay in stunned paralysis for a full two seconds. Long enough for the man to straddle her and pin her hands to the concrete above her head. All without breaking the lip-lock.

BRENNA JENSEN WAS A WOMAN with a death wish and she needed a lesson on following orders. But now, with her wet body pinned beneath his thighs, he didn’t know who was teaching whom the lesson. She lay still beneath him, but she wasn’t fighting yet.

He hadn’t planned on wrestling her, but when she’d knocked him to the ground, his reactions had been instinctive. Now he was lying on top of a half-naked woman dripping wet from her recent swim.

What was worse, Nick’s traitorous body responded to all the shiny wet skin exposed by her discreet black swimsuit. And he was kissing her now, knowing she’d be pissed as hell when she came to her senses.

Perhaps the thought of her anger made him increase the pressure on her lips and drive his tongue between her teeth to war with hers. Hadn’t he come to teach her a lesson about what could happen when you didn’t follow orders?

The kiss lasted only a few agonizingly brief seconds before her muscles tightened and she gasped. Slender fingers flew from around his neck to plant firmly against his chest, shoving him backward. “Get off!” she sputtered, squirming beneath him until she realized she couldn’t dislodge him and he wasn’t going to budge.

“I’ll get off as soon as you calm down.”

When she stopped moving, he rolled off and sat on the concrete next to her, regret washing over him for his unprofessional actions in kissing her.

And all that squirming she’d done had left its mark on him—one that manifested itself beneath the zipper of his jeans. Damn this woman. She was more trouble than he’d bargained for and she’d get herself hurt if she wasn’t careful. “You didn’t check with me before leaving the police station.”

“Is that what this is all about?” She remained flat on her back, her breasts heaving beneath the black Lycra. “Are you telling me I have to report every move to you?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

She leaned on her elbow, her brows rising on her forehead. “I didn’t think I was a member of your team. Has that changed?”

“Yes.” The word flew from his mouth before he thought. Okay, so she could be a member of his team instead of stirring up trouble on the periphery.

“And if I weren’t a female member of your team, would you make the same rules?”

“Yes.”

“Bull!” Her glare sliced through him.

“Until we catch this lunatic, you’re to report every move to me, and only me. No leaving messages with any of the rest of my team or the Riverton Police Department.” He leaned closer until his face was only inches away from hers. “I will know your every move including when you go to the bathroom. Do you understand?”

Her mouth opened and closed without uttering a word, her blue eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights overhead. He thought she wouldn’t answer, when finally, she heaved a sigh and said, “Yes, sir.”

Nick rolled to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. Ignoring the hand, she lunged for a towel and slung it around her body without turning her back to him. Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and if Nick didn’t know better, he’d say she was embarrassed and perhaps a bit shy about being in a swimsuit in front of him. Funny how her embarrassment gave him a little twinge of something like endearment. Was he crazy?

Nick glanced down at his wet jeans and shirt. Now that her body wasn’t pressed against him, the cooler air made the wet spots uncomfortable. “The weather’s clearing and I wanted to get out and interview neighbors and coworkers of the missing women. You interested?”

“Yes, I am.” She tucked the end of the towel in over her breasts before she met his gaze. “I needed the exercise to clear my head. I would have been back in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Just do us both a favor, and let me know exactly where you’re going. I don’t want another victim on my watch.” His gut clenched at the thought of Brenna’s swimsuit-clad body lying somewhere in a snowbank. He was only concerned because she was his key to the killer. Nick nodded his head toward the hallway. “Get changed. I’ll wait outside your door.”

Without a word, she blew through the glass doors and down the hallway to her room.

Nick followed her every step of the way, admiring the sway of her hips beneath the towel and the way her bare feet in the flip-flops made her look young and vulnerable. He should have waited in the lobby.

After sliding the plastic key card in the lock, Brenna stood with her hand on the doorknob. “If you’re going to wait for me, you might as well have a seat in my room.”

He nodded and followed her into the dark room, scanning the interior for any clues to this woman. Her suitcase stood open on one of the two queen-size beds, the contents a jumble of clothes and toiletries.

“Pack in a hurry?” he asked, settling into a chair in the corner of the room, thinking he really should march himself back down the hall to the lobby. But he wanted to know more about this woman who could knock him on his butt and still look like a lost little girl.

“When the assignment came through last night, I only took time to throw in the necessities.” She grabbed clothes and underwear and headed for the bathroom. “Give me two minutes.”

Nick stood, strolled across the commercial carpeting to the window on the far side and pushed the curtain aside. The skies had cleared and the sun shone brightly on the fresh layer of snow. It made him want to go out and stand in it. Nick didn’t like staying inside any more than he had to, but the weather in North Dakota forced people inside for long periods. He didn’t know how they did it. Now living in Norfolk, Virginia, and having spent most of his life on the southeast coast where winter may have included a few days of snow that melted within hours, he couldn’t comprehend living inside for six months out of the year.

The sound of the shower captured Nick’s attention, drawing his mind away from the case to the newest member of his team. The thought of water gliding over her pale, smooth skin had his blood burning a path south. He could still feel the warmth of her beneath his fingertips, the smooth wetness of her swimsuit pressed against his clothing. And that kiss. A mistake and definitely a distraction he could live without.

If he hadn’t already been burned by a woman, he might consider kissing her again. He sensed passion beneath her feisty exterior. He’d caught a glimpse of it under her enthusiasm for her job and her concern for her hometown. His body would like nothing more than to explore and discover just how passionate she was, on a purely physical level.

Nick turned back to the window. Brenna Jensen was part of his job, not his life. The last time he’d made a woman part of his life, he’d made her his wife. And what had that brought him? He’d lost his home, his marriage, his partner and best friend, but mostly his faith in women. Brenna Jensen was definitely hands-off. He had a case to solve and he had to contain any wayward attraction he might feel for the gutsy blonde.

Just as the door to the bathroom opened, his cell phone buzzed and vibrated in the belt clip on his hip. He flipped the phone open and pressed it to his ear.

Brenna stepped from the steamy interior of the bathroom dressed in a pair of black wool trousers and a formfitting turtleneck sweater that hugged the swells of her breasts to perfection. Despite her questioning look, Nick had to turn away to concentrate on who was calling.

“Nick, this is Paul. We have a body.”

Chapter Four

After the investigative team had collected every bit of evidence they could, the ice-fishing shanty had been pushed aside, allowing the recovery team to retrieve the body. Brenna stood beside Nick Tarver, staring down into the drilled-out ice. The wind whipped her hair across her eyes, blocking out the horror of what she saw.

Dr. Janine Drummond’s white, naked body bobbed in and out of view of the hole drilled through two feet of solid ice into Eagle Lake.

Brenna turned away, bile rising in her throat. She couldn’t lose her stomach. Not in front of these people. A professional kept her cool.

This was a woman she’d known and respected for years. In past cases she’d investigated, the victims had been people she’d never met.

Dave Jorgensen and Mike Koenig stood in their insulated coveralls and Elmer Fudd hats, their faces pale and pinched, giving their statement to Sheriff Tindale.

While Mike stared at the ice, Dave did all the talking. “Once the storm cleared, we thought we’d get out here before the ice started melting. This was one of the holes we’d drilled last weekend. As soon as we saw what was down there, we got in the truck and headed to town to call. It ’bout gave us a heart attack, it scared us so bad. But we didn’t kill that lady and put her down there. No, sir, we didn’t.”

“It’s okay, Dave,” Sheriff Tindale said.

A detective snapped pictures of the hole and the dead woman, the camera clicks muffled by the westerly breeze blowing across the frozen lake.

All Brenna could see were the pale arms and torso of Dr. Drummond snagged by Dave’s fishing line. A quiver shook Brenna’s body so hard her teeth rattled.

Agent Tarver leaned close. “You okay?”

Without glancing up, Brenna nodded. She wanted to ignore the man. Instead, she studied him in her peripheral vision.

His dark hair fell across the deep frown lines on his forehead and his ears were turning pink from the cold. The black jacket and black hair were a stark contrast to the white landscape, making him seem larger than life.

She didn’t want to notice him, didn’t want to acknowledge his existence. But he stood beside her, the faint scent of his aftershave wafting her way as the wind shifted. Again she shivered, although not from the cold.

Tarver nudged her elbow with his gloved hand. “Want to get out of here?”

His touch jump-started her numb brain and she realized she wasn’t doing anything to solve this case by staring at a dead woman. “No.”

“Since you’re from around here, why don’t you ask the questions? They’ll trust you more.”

She nodded and made her way over to Dave. “Mr. Jorgensen, do you leave your hut out here all winter?”

“Yes, ma’am. Been out here since last November. Even left the auger all locked up inside. Didn’t think anyone would break in and use it.”

“See any tire tracks or footprints nearby?” she asked.

“No, but then it snowed pretty heavy.”

“Thanks, Dave.” Brenna moved on to one of the sheriff’s deputies tasked with gathering the evidence. “Make sure you brush away loose snow. If someone drove out here, there should be packed snow tracks crushed into the ice beneath the fresh snow.”

He glanced up at the bright sunshine beating down on them. “If we’re gonna do it, it’ll have to be soon. That sun will melt the evidence, otherwise.”

Already, the new snow that hadn’t blown away with storm winds was soft and slushy. Brenna stared up at the clear blue sky. “If the sun keeps shining and the weather starts warming, it won’t be long before the ice thins.” As if to emphasize her point, a loud crack ripped through the air like the sound of a shotgun blast.

Nick jumped, his brow dropping into a fierce frown. “What the hell was that?”

“The ice cracking,” Brenna answered, ducking to hide a hint of a smile.

“Cracking?” He glanced around at the others. “And nobody’s worried about falling in?”

“Not yet,” Dave Jorgensen said. “The ice is still thick. It’ll hold.”

Brenna looked up at Nick, her lips twitching. “Ready to go?”

“Ready when you are.” He inhaled deeply and rolled his neck and shoulders, clearly uncomfortable out on the frozen lake. “Where to?”

“I want to talk to Dr. Drummond’s neighbors.”

“The police department interviewed the folks on both sides, across the street and behind them. No one saw anything.”

“Then we need to ask again.” She snapped her collar up to block the wind. “There’s got to be something.”

“For once, I couldn’t agree with you more.” Nick slid on the ice and Brenna put a hand out to steady him. When they reached her Jeep, he held her door. “Just can’t see the attraction in ice fishing. I always thought of lakes as places you swim or boat in, not drive on in a one-ton vehicle.”

Brenna climbed behind the wheel. “I never thought of it as a place to ditch a body. Makes me wonder where he’s left the others. Should we be examining all the fishing holes in the lake?”

“Not a bad thought. I’ll check with the sheriff.” Nick walked away across the ice, each step measured and careful.

Brenna hid a smile. At least he was game to step out on the ice. Some people wouldn’t dream of it. The thought of the ice cracking and dumping them into freezing waters was more than most cared to face.

As Nick climbed into the passenger seat, the image of Janine Drummond surfaced in Brenna’s thoughts and she shuddered.

“Are you cold?” He closed his door and peeled his gloves off, holding his hands to the heater vent.

“No, just chilled by what we found.”

“Yeah.” Nick’s lips thinned. “Now we know for sure we’re dealing with a killer.”

All the more reason to bring him in as soon as possible. She turned the vehicle and headed toward the shoreline, memories of better times flooding in.

“You act like you know your way around on the ice,” Nick said.

“I used to come out here with my father to ice fish.” She remembered the old ice hut he’d built with scrap lumber. As soon as the ice was thick enough to hold his truck, he’d drag the shanty out on the lake and spend many contented hours fishing for walleye and trout. Brenna joined him most of the time, relaxed by the sound of the wind wailing against the boards and a companionable silence with her father.

Not Alice. She preferred to be out and about with her friends, shopping, bowling or playing games indoors. Brenna always thought she should have been born a boy. But her father had never made her feel that way. “What can a boy do that you can’t?” he’d asked, and handed her a fishing pole and bait.

“You and your father were close?” Nick’s low tone broke through Brenna’s thoughts.

“Yeah.” The old ache settled against her chest. He’d been the main man in her life. The only man to understand her and accept her for who she was, not what she looked like.

“Must have been nice. My father was gone a lot while I was growing up.” He said with no emotion, as if he were stating a fact.

Brenna pictured a little boy sitting on the front porch with a fishing pole and no one to take him fishing. She was very fortunate to have had a father as supportive as hers, who’d cared enough to teach her how to enjoy life’s simpler pleasures. The cold days spent on the lake with her father would be forever etched into her heart.

But Eagle Lake had changed.

“I had good memories of this place until today. Now I can’t get the image of Dr. Drummond’s body out of my mind.”

Nick nodded, staring out across the white landscape. “We’ll get him.”

“You bet we will.” Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Let’s just hope we do before he kills again.”

“I’m afraid he already has. Question is where’d he hide the bodies?”

THE REST OF THE DRIVE back to town was accomplished in silence. Sun shone down on the snow and ice, making a smooth glaze of moisture over the top. When darkness fell, the water would freeze and make a treacherous layer of black ice.

Nick stared out the window without absorbing the scenery. Instead, he combed through what little evidence they had so far and came up with nothing.

Brenna drove straight to Janine Drummond’s little cottage nestled among towering barren cottonwoods on East Thirty-second Avenue. Yellow crime-scene tape marked the exterior of the fifty-year-old white house with the forest-green trim.

As soon as she shifted into Park, Brenna climbed down from the Jeep and headed for the house on the east side of Dr. Drummond’s.

Behind her, Nick admired her no-nonsense pursuit of answers and the way her hips swayed as she picked her way across the slippery, wet driveway.

After knocking several times with no answer, Brenna turned to leave.

Nick touched her arm. “Wait.” He nodded toward the front window where a curtain twitched. “Sir,” he called out, “I’m Agent Nick Tarver with the FBI. Could we have a word with you about Dr. Drummond?” Nick pulled his credentials out of his pocket and held them high.

Brenna followed suit.

Several seconds passed before they heard the sound of a dead bolt being unlocked and the door cracked open.

An old man dressed in wool slacks and a gray sweater peeked through the opening. “We already gave our statement.”

Brenna stepped forward. “I’m Special Agent Brenna Jensen. We just want to ask a few questions,” she said softly, extending her hand. “Please, sir, we need more information.”

Nick was impressed with the gentle quality of Brenna’s voice. How different from the tough-as-nails cop back at the station. And whatever she was doing was working on the old man.

“Dean Helmke.” The man reached out and shook Brenna’s hand. “I don’t know what I can add to what we told the police department.”

“We’ll only take a few minutes of your time, sir.” Brenna smiled. “We want to understand the case.”

The man sighed. “You’ll have to talk to me. My wife’s lying down. All the excitement and worry is making her sick.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Brenna said softly.

“Come in.” The man held the door wide and waved them forward. “It’s still too cold to stand outside for long.”

“Thank you.” Brenna stomped her feet on the outside mat before she stepped through.

“Although, the way the sun’s been shining, won’t be long before the spring melt.” Mr. Helmke moved aside to make room for them. “Hope it doesn’t do it all at once. Sure don’t want a repeat of the flood of ninety-seven.”

“No, we don’t.” Brenna kicked off her boots and hung her jacket on a coat rack. Then she nudged Nick in the side, staring pointedly at his boots, before she padded in her stocking feet to the living room.

Nick removed his boots and jacket and followed, glad he didn’t have holes in his socks.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Mr. Helmke asked.

“No, thank you.” Nick took a seat across the room. “We’ll only take a minute of your time.” He nodded at Brenna. Having made the man feel at ease, she could lead the questioning.

Brenna waited until Mr. Helmke sat in a faded recliner before she launched into her questions. “Sir, when was the last time you saw Dr. Drummond?”

“Last Wednesday when she got home from work. I offered to help carry in her groceries.” He dropped his head into his hands and his bony shoulders shook. “Can’t believe she’s gone. I should have gone by and checked on her later that night.”

Brenna sat patiently until the man straightened.

“I’m sorry.” The old man scrubbed a hand down his face and looked up, his eyes red-rimmed. “I keep thinking of all the things I should have done, if I’d been a good neighbor.”

“You couldn’t have known, Mr. Helmke. You weren’t responsible for what happened to her,” Nick said.

But Mr. Helmke wasn’t listening. No matter what Brenna or Nick said, he’d probably carry the guilt, anyway.

Brenna patted the man’s hand, a good technique for gaining his confidence. Yet, Nick didn’t think she was as worried about technique as she was about the man’s feelings. She had a natural familiarity with the people of Riverton, an affinity with their way of life and the loss of one of their own. She rested her elbows on her knees, clasping her hands together. “Did you hear anything, or see anything unusual Wednesday night?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” He shook his head. “How could someone walk right in and steal a person away and no one see or hear anything? How?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Helmke.” Brenna stared straight ahead at nothing Nick could see. “But we’ll do our best to catch him.”

The old man kept talking as if Brenna hadn’t said a thing. “It’s so bad, my wife is afraid to sleep at night and afraid to take sleeping pills in case the kidnapper comes after one of us.” He reached out and grabbed Brenna’s hand. “I have a loaded pistol in my nightstand. Never in the sixty years I’ve lived in Riverton have I slept with a loaded pistol in my nightstand.”

The fear in the old man’s face made Nick’s gut tighten.

“Oh, Mr. Helmke.” Brenna brows dipped low. “Please be careful you or your wife don’t end up shooting each other.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be careful.” He squeezed her hand. “I knew your daddy, God rest his soul, and I’ve heard good things about you. You’ll catch him, won’t you? We won’t sleep at night with that maniac on the loose. I don’t see how anyone in this town can rest knowing they aren’t safe in their own beds.”

Brenna’s shoulders straightened. “We’ll do our best. I promise.”

Damn right they would. Nick always got his man and this killer wouldn’t get away without paying for his crime.

THE WINDS HAD DIED DOWN by the time they stepped out of the Helmke home into the sunshine. After the brisk breeze out on the lake, the sunshine felt good on Brenna’s face, as if God were making a promise that spring wasn’t far behind. The snow she trudged through on her way to the Jeep was quickly becoming a dirty, slushy mess with water streaming into the streets. “The weatherman said we’d have three full days of this, maybe more.”

“This what?” Nick stood next to her vehicle staring back at Janine Drummond’s house.

“Sunshine and warm temperatures.” Brenna tipped her face to the sun and closed her eyes, absorbing the rays.

“You call this warm?”

Agent Tarver’s voice felt like the sun on her skin, teasing her with a promise of more to come. The thought brought her back to the cold, wet earth with a splash. “It’s above zero,” she said. “What do you want?” She unlocked the door to the Jeep and kicked off the crusty snow from her boots before climbing in.