The Intended Victim Read online

  “Not that we could find,” he admitted. “None of the victims appeared to know one another, they had various careers, they shopped at different stores. And none of them chose risky lifestyles.”

  She nodded. She’d watched her father pacing the floor at night, his brow furrowed as he tried to piece together the puzzle. Then she was struck by a sudden thought. “Could any of them have answered an ad to become an actress?”

  “That’s possible.” Ash’s lack of astonishment at her cleverness proved he’d already considered the notion the Butcher had used the same tricks to lure his victims in the past. “What young man or woman doesn’t dream of becoming a star, no matter what their economic status or career? And for the killer, it would be easy to put an ad in the paper asking for a specific age and physical appearance. A perfect trap.” He deliberately paused. “But it doesn’t include you, unless you went to an audition you didn’t tell me about?”

  “No.” She set aside the wineglass, using the motion to hide her expression. “I assumed I was chosen because my father was the lead detective investigating the case.”

  “Or because of me,” he breathed, his voice edged with the same awful regret that filled her.

  She didn’t blame him. Or her father. She blamed herself.

  A brittle silence threatened to settle around them, but with an effort, Remi cleared her throat and motioned toward the folders. The past was done. The future was all that mattered.

  “We’ve gone through the witness files,” she said, pointing to the two files Ash had separated from the rest. “What are those?”

  Ash leaned forward and set aside his own glass, as if he was as anxious as she to put the dark memories behind them.

  “Suspect files.”

  She picked up the folders with a lift of her brows. “There weren’t very many suspects.”

  “Actually, there were dozens, but those files are still at the precinct.”

  “Why didn’t you include these?”

  “They were . . .” He hesitated, searching for the right word. “Sensitive.”

  “Sensitive?”

  He tugged the top file from her fingers, flipping it open. “This one was on Steve Davis.”

  “I don’t recognize the name.”

  “His family owns a chain of discount tobacco shops.” He shuffled through the papers in the pile, reading the notes he’d made over five years before. “They have the sort of money that could have quashed any investigation. We had to keep it off the books.”

  “Why did you suspect him?”

  “One of the victims worked as a receptionist at the Davis Tobacco headquarters,” he said, offering her an abbreviated version of his thick stack of notes. “After she was fired, she accused Steve of sexual harassment. She’d even hired an attorney. The night before she was murdered, Steve was heard boasting in a bar that he would kill the bitch before he gave her one penny.”

  She made a small sound of disgust. Steve Davis sounded like a pig. “Did you bring him in for questioning?”

  “No. Before we got to that point, we discovered he was left-handed.”

  “And the killer is right-handed?”

  “Yep.”

  That seemed like a lame excuse to dismiss a potential suspect. “Couldn’t he have used his right hand to throw off the cops?” she asked.

  “The medical examiner was convinced he would know if the killer had tried that particular trick. Plus, we couldn’t find any connection between Davis and the other women.” He closed the file and tossed it back onto the coffee table. “He stayed a suspect, but he moved down the list.”

  She opened the file she held in her hand. “What about this one?” She read the label out loud. “R.H.”

  “Robert Hutton.” His lips twisted with dislike. “He worked in the district attorney’s office.”

  “Bobby?” This time Remi recognized the name. A sound of shock was wrenched from her throat. It had to be a mistake.

  Ash’s brows drew together at her childhood name for Robert. “Bobby?”

  “We went to the same private high school. We all called him Bobby.”

  A wry amusement twisted his lips. “I suppose I should have guessed.”

  She ignored his words. The fact that she had a large trust fund had rarely come between them, but Remi had sensed that Ash preferred to forget she’d grown up in a mansion and attended schools that cost more than his parents earned in a year.

  “I can’t believe he would be a suspect,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “It might be a cliché, but he doesn’t seem the type.”

  His jaw tightened. As if he was annoyed by her words. “There is no ‘type’ for a serial killer. It’s impossible to predict what might make someone snap.”

  “You’re right. It’s just . . .” She allowed her words to trail away with a shake of her head.

  She’d known Bobby Hutton her entire life. He was three years older than her, with the sort of boy-next-door good looks that inspired instant trust in people. That was what made him such a good lawyer. Beneath the façade, however, he was a shallow, egotistical man who was consumed with ambition.

  A jerk, yes. But she’d never heard any whispers he was violent toward women.

  “How well did you know him?” Ash demanded.

  She shrugged. “We dated for a short time.”

  “You dated.” His voice was flat. “Why didn’t your dad tell me?”

  Remi sent him a puzzled glance. Was he aggravated by the thought she’d dated Bobby or because her father hadn’t told him?

  “We only went out a few times during my freshman year of college,” she told him. “It wasn’t like we had a meaningful relationship.”

  His expression remained hard. “Why did you break up?”

  She heaved a sigh. “I told you, we were never a couple. We had three or four dates and I quickly realized that his interest wasn’t in me.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  A faint color stained her cheeks at his dry tone. He was right. Bobby had been as eager as any other guy to get her in bed. Still, he’d chosen her for her connections, not her body.

  “Bobby has always been ambitious,” she insisted. “I think he calculated that my trust fund, combined with my father’s connection to the Chicago Police Department, would benefit his climb up the political ladder.”

  “Hmm.” He didn’t look convinced.

  Realizing he wasn’t in the mood to listen to her arguments, she turned the conversation to more important matters. “Why did you suspect him?”

  His eyes narrowed, but he followed her lead. “The last victim, Tiffany Holloway, made several calls to his private cell phone,” he said.

  Tiffany Holloway was the one victim her father and Ash had discussed in her presence. By then, she’d been spending the majority of her free time either at Ash’s apartment or hanging around the precinct. She knew the seventeen-year-old girl had been found in her parents’ living room with her throat slit. There’d been no sign of a forced entry and the cops had assumed she’d known her assailant.

  The thought that she’d been calling Bobby’s private number made her stomach clench with unease. “Did he tell you why?”

  “He said she was a waitress at his favorite restaurant and he’d shared his private number with her because she wanted his help to get an internship at the DA’s office.”

  Internship? Remi shook her head. She could accept that any young person would be eager to land an internship in the DA’s office. It would look great on a college application. But she couldn’t imagine Bobby going out of his way to help anyone, especially a teenager. Not unless there was something in it for himself.

  “Did you believe him?”

  Ash released a sharp laugh. “No, but he had an airtight alibi the night Tiffany was murdered.”

  “What do you mean by airtight?”

  “He was at your house.”

  She blinked. “My house?”

  “Your par
ents’ estate,” he said with a shrug. “Hutton was meeting with your mother to discuss some charity event they were planning together.”

  Ah. That made sense. Bobby was always eager to promote his supposed dedication to the less fortunate, and her mother had a genuine talent for creating sensational charity events. The two had often worked together.

  She’d always been sure to make plans to be away from the house when she knew he was coming over. His ego was big enough to assume she was hoping to spend time with him if she happened to be around . . .

  Remi’s thoughts were abruptly disrupted as a memory wiggled to the surface. “Wait,” she breathed. “I remember that evening.”

  Ash grimaced. “Like I said, airtight.”

  Remi’s gaze lowered as she skimmed over the notes in the file. Her heart twisted as she easily recognized her dad’s handwriting. She would chide him that it looked like chicken scratches and he would tell her that his mind worked too fast for his pencil to keep up.

  “November twenty-first,” she murmured, lifting her head to meet his curious gaze. “It was a Friday, right?”

  He raised his brows in surprise. “Yes.”

  “My mother didn’t meet with Bobby that night.”

  He stared at her. Was he having trouble processing what she was telling him? Probably. He’d spent years convinced that Bobby had spent the night with her mother.

  “Were you there?” he finally demanded.

  She shook her head. When her mother had told her that Bobby was coming for dinner, Remi had agreed to join a friend and a few other classmates to cram for a history exam.

  “I was supposed to go to a study group, but I felt sick when I got to the library and turned around and drove back home,” she told him.

  He tapped his fingers on his knee, silently reorganizing his assumption of what had occurred the night of the murder. He gave a dissatisfied shake of his head. “Did your mother say why Hutton canceled the meeting?”

  “She wasn’t there when I got home,” Remi said. She’d been too relieved when she pulled into the driveway to discover the house dark and silent to consider why the dinner had been canceled. She was feeling like crap and in no mood to deal with Bobby. Or her mother. “I took some cold medicine and crawled into bed.”

  “Maybe they met somewhere else,” he suggested.

  “Maybe, but why would he say they met at the house if they were somewhere else?”

  He considered the question, at last giving a sharp shake of his head. “You’re sure it was the same night?”

  She shuffled back through her memories. It’d been over five years ago, and she hadn’t had any reason to think about the night since then. Still, she was confident she wasn’t mistaken.

  “Yeah. I was feeling rotten when Dad got the call the next morning about Tiffany Holloway,” she said. “He wanted to take me to the doctor, but I told him to go to work.”

  Ash continued to tap his fingers against his knee. He was troubled by something. “Surely your dad asked your mother about the meeting?”

  She did another scan of the notes. “I don’t see any mention of a different location for the meeting or it being canceled.” She closed the file and handed it to Ash. “Maybe Dad was like you and just assumed Bobby came to dinner, so he never bothered to ask Mother.”

  He muttered a low curse, clearly annoyed with himself. As if he should have known that Bobby had lied. “I think I need to have a chat with Hutton.”

  “He’s the assistant district attorney now,” she warned.

  A hard smile curled his lips. “All the better.”

  “Why is that better?”

  “He has more to lose.”

  About to remind him that a career in the DA’s office also ensured that he had friends in high places, she was distracted as her dog launched himself across the room, barking loud enough to make her ears ring.

  Instinctively, her head turned toward the large window, catching a faint movement before it disappeared. With a sharp gasp, she surged off the couch, her hand pressed against her racing heart. “Ash.”

  In an instant, he was standing beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. “What is it?”

  “Someone was looking in the window,” she rasped.

  “Stay here.”

  Before she could protest, Ash was grabbing the coat he’d left on a nearby chair and heading out the front door. Remi cursed and hurried to retrieve her phone from the kitchen. She would give Ash five minutes to return. A second longer and she was dialing 911.

  Chapter Nine

  Ash darted outside and quickly pressed his back against the house. He didn’t want to make himself a target for whoever was lurking outside. Plus, he needed a couple of seconds to let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

  Inside, he could hear Buddy still barking, although it wasn’t with the same ferocity as earlier. At the same time, he saw a flicker of movement near the corner of the street. Damn. He hurried off the porch, but he knew he was too late. If it was the person who’d been peeking in the window, they’d already disappeared into the darkness.

  Of course, he couldn’t allow himself to leap to conclusions. It could have been a neighbor heading home.

  The thought of neighbors had Ash veering to the right. He stepped around the edge of Remi’s house. Next door, the lights were on, and Ash could see a shadow moving behind the closed curtains of the front window. Would Doug Gates have had time to dart back into his home? Probably. But there was no conclusive proof.

  With a shake of his head, Ash made a quick circle around Remi’s yard to make sure there was no one hiding in the bushes before heading back inside.

  Remi rushed to meet him as soon as he stepped through the door, her phone clutched in her hand.

  “Did you see anyone?” she demanded.

  “No.” Without considering what he was doing, Ash wrapped her trembling body in his arms and dropped a light kiss on top of her head. “Whoever it was took off too quickly for me to get a good look at them.”

  “Who could . . .” Her words trailed away. “Oh, I forgot.”

  He felt a sharp pang of loss as she pulled out of his arms and headed toward the narrow table next to the front door.

  “Remi?”

  She grabbed a piece of paper and crossed back toward him, shoving it in his hand.

  “I forgot. I found this near the door when we came back from Bailey.”

  Ash glanced down, reading the brief note.

  I need to see you.

  What the hell? It didn’t sound like a threat. More something a friend would leave. Or a creepy next-door neighbor.

  “It wasn’t in an envelope?” he demanded.

  “No.”

  “We need to give it to Jax,” he abruptly decided. Under normal circumstances, he’d dismiss the note. But these were far from normal circumstances. He wasn’t going to risk overlooking any clue. “He can have it checked for fingerprints. Do you have a paper bag?”

  “In the kitchen,” she said, leading the way.

  He was just tucking the paper in a small bag she’d pulled from a cabinet when his phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen.

  “Speak of the devil,” he murmured, pressing the phone to his ear. “Hey, Jax, what’s up?” His brows lifted as his brother revealed he had the background check finished on Doug Gates. “That was quick,” he said. Jax was kicking ass on this case. Probably to the point of exhaustion. “Thanks,” he said after Jax finished sharing the intel he’d discovered. Then he rolled his eyes as his brother spent the next few minutes giving him a stern lecture. “Of course I’m not going to do anything stupid,” he promised, even as he mentally crossed his fingers. There was a 100 percent chance he was going to do something stupid. “I’ve got something I think you’ll want to see,” he said in an effort to distract Jax. “I’ll bring it by your office in the morning.” He heaved a sigh of resignation as the lecture continued. “I promise, nothing stupid.”

  Ending t
he connection, Ash shoved the phone back into his front pocket.

  “Why does Jax assume you’re going to do something stupid?” Remi asked.

  “Older brother syndrome.”

  “Tell me.” Her expression warned she wasn’t going to let go of the subject. She called him stubborn, but she was the one who could give lessons to a mule.

  “I had Jax run a background check on your neighbor,” he grudgingly revealed.

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course you did.”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  She paused, clearly torn between her good manners, which said it was rude to spy on her neighbor, and an overwhelming desire to know the secrets Jax might have uncovered.

  Curiosity won the battle.

  “What did he discover?”

  “Doug Gates is a loan officer at a local bank,” Ash repeated what Jax had told him. “He was divorced last year and has two daughters.”

  “That’s exactly what he told me.”

  She looked relieved. Obviously, she didn’t want to think her neighbor was a serial killer. Ash, on the other hand, wished he was the Butcher. He could walk next door, arrest the bastard, and bring an end to the threat.

  Every day that passed was more opportunity for the killer to strike again.

  “Did he also share that his ex-wife has a restraining order against him?”

  “Why?”

  “She reported that he tried to push her out of the car while they were driving home from the lawyer’s office,” he told her. “And there was at least one witness who backed up her story.”

  She flinched, her features tightening with disgust. If Doug had hoped to ever earn Remi’s affection, that was effectively dead. Something that pleased Ash more than it should.

  “He’s obviously a horrible person,” she said. “But that doesn’t make him a serial killer.”

  “No, but it reveals he’s willing to be violent toward women. And it gives me a reason to check him out.”

  She looked confused. “Isn’t that what Jax just did?”

  He shrugged. “I like to get the intel straight from the source.”