The Intended Victim Page 3

  Ash understood his brother’s warning. There was nothing more dangerous for an investigator than leaping to a conclusion, then becoming blind to other possibilities.

  But he was no longer a detective, and his gut instinct was screaming that this was the work of the killer who’d destroyed the lives of so many. Including his own.

  “There’s more.” Feldman cleared his throat, lowering the pad. “She’s had plastic surgery.”

  “Not that unusual,” Jax said, echoing Ash’s own thoughts. “Lots of women, and men for that matter, think they need some nip and tuck.”

  Feldman grimaced. “This nip and tuck was for a particular purpose.”

  A chill crawled over Ash’s skin. Not the frigid air of the morgue, but something else. Perhaps a premonition. “What purpose?” he forced himself to ask.

  “If I had to make a guess, I would say it was to make Angel Conway look like Remi Walsh.”

  Chapter Two

  Remi Walsh was seated at a small table at the back of the youth center. She was a tall, slender woman with long, black hair she kept pulled into a braid and green eyes she’d inherited from her mother. Her skin was winter pale and smooth even though she was closer to thirty than twenty. Today she was wearing a pair of jeans and a heavy cable-knit sweater to combat the icy December day.

  Across the table sat a fifteen-year-old girl. Julie Stewart had reddish-blond curls and a round face sprinkled with freckles. She looked like any typical teenager. Young and innocent. But Julie had endured more than most people in her short life. Remi had only gotten an abbreviated version, but she knew that Julie had been bounced from one foster home to another after being taken away from her abusive mother.

  Now she was in a stable home that was ensuring she attended school every day. They also insisted that Julie stop by the youth center after classes twice a week for tutoring.

  Remi sat back and tapped her red pen on the table. “Okay. We’ve identified the mistakes. You need to correct them and retype the paper before Monday.”

  Julie grimaced as she glanced at the term paper crisscrossed with red marks. It was late on Friday afternoon and the teen was no doubt envisioning a weekend filled with lazy mornings spent in bed and her nights at the mall with her friends. “I’ll try.”

  “No,” Remi said in firm tones. “You’ll do it or you won’t pass your English Comp class and you’ll be taking it again next year. Got it?”

  Julie heaved a sigh that indicated she considered herself the most mistreated teen in the world. Still, she gave a nod as she grabbed for her backpack and coat. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, rising to her feet and shoving the paper into the backpack. “I got it.”

  “Good girl.” Remi watched in silence as Julie pulled on her jacket and headed toward the door. Before she could leave the room, however, Remi called out, “Julie.”

  The teen reluctantly halted, clearly eager to be on her way. “What now?”

  Remi hesitated. She hated to discuss one of her students with another, but she was genuinely worried.

  “Have you seen Drew?”

  Drew Tyson was a sixteen-year-old boy who’d started coming to the center with Julie a few months before. Remi suspected the only reason he’d agreed to be tutored was for an opportunity to spend time with the pretty girl.

  Remi didn’t care why he came. She just wanted the opportunity to help him finish his education. He was too smart to be lost to the usual traps that came along with grinding poverty. Drugs. Crime. Violence. And, more often than not, an early death.

  Julie paused, obviously trying to think back to the last time she’d seen Drew.

  “Not since last Wednesday,” she finally said.

  Remi’s heart sank. She’d hoped that Drew had simply decided he was tired of coming to the youth center, but that he was still going to school. “I tried to call his father, but I didn’t get an answer,” she said.

  Julie shrugged. “It’s possible his old man is back in jail. Drew told me that he found an empty baggie in his car. He’s probably using again.”

  The words were said in the jaded tones of a teen who’d seen too much in her short years. Her own mother was currently serving time for drugs.

  “Where does Drew go when his dad’s in jail?” she asked.

  “I think he has an aunt in Minnesota, but he usually stays on the streets.” Julie glanced toward the one window in the room that offered a view of the bus stop in front of the building, making sure she wasn’t about to miss her ride home. “Do you want me to go look for him?”

  “No.” Remi gave a sharp shake of her head. The last thing she wanted was Julie putting herself in danger. “I’ll do that.”

  Julie ran a disbelieving glance over Remi. “You?”

  Remi rolled her eyes. Although she dressed in casual clothes and never wore makeup or jewelry, the kids easily sensed that she wasn’t from their neighborhood. It was like a second sense they possessed.

  “I’ll see you Monday,” she told the younger girl.

  Julie gave a wave and hurried out of the room. She no doubt had big plans for the night. Remi on the other hand . . .

  She sighed as she cleaned off her desk. She didn’t want to think about the empty weekend that stretched ahead of her. It was her own fault, of course. She had friends who’d invited her out to dinner or to the movies. And her mother had mentioned she was hosting yet another gala to raise money for . . . hell, she couldn’t even remember. Or, more likely, she hadn’t been listening.

  If she didn’t want to be alone, she shouldn’t have said no to everyone.

  With her desk clean, Remi was reaching for her purse when a large man appeared in the doorway.

  “Knock, knock,” he said with a smile.

  Lamar Hill was a retired NFL player who’d returned to Chicago after he’d been injured. He could easily have retired on his earnings, but instead, he’d devoted his time and money to starting this youth center that provided hot meals, clothing, medical care, computer access, and tutoring for any kid who walked through the door. In the very back were a few beds that he made available to the homeless adults in the neighborhood. It was a safe place, a beacon of light for people who had very little. Plus, it had the bonus of being a cool spot for the older teens to come and spend some time.

  Who didn’t want to hang with an NFL player?

  Remi tilted back her head. Lamar was over six five, with a broad body that moved with surprising grace.

  “Hi, Lamar, what’s up?” she asked. The man was usually too busy to stop by to chat.

  “You have a couple of visitors,” he said.

  “Now?” Remi wrinkled her nose. On rare occasions she had parents stop by to ask about their child’s progress, or even teachers who brought by missing homework assignments they hoped she could help students complete. Usually she welcomed their arrival, but it was five o’clock on a Friday and she still had an hour of traffic to battle through. “I was just about to leave.”

  “Sorry, but it’s the cops,” he said, his tone more curious than alarmed.

  When one of the kids got in trouble, they often offered the names of staff members at the youth center to vouch for them.

  “Oh.” Remi had a sudden surge of hope that they were here about Drew. She didn’t want the boy to be in trouble, but at least she would know he was safe. “Okay.”

  “Can I send them back?”

  “Of course.”

  Lamar flashed his charming smile before he turned to disappear across the large central room where a dozen volunteers were setting up chairs and heating up the popcorn machine for movie night.

  Remi swallowed a yawn and reached into her purse to switch on her cell phone. It was doubtful she’d missed any urgent messages, or even a friend with a last-minute invitation.

  The screen glowed to life. Nothing. No missed calls. No messages.

  Look at her. Miss Popularity.

  Her lips twisted as she shook off her bout of self-pity. It was just the short days and cold weath
er that were making her feel blue. What she needed was a few days on a beach with a drink that had lots of alcohol and a little umbrella. That would perk her right up.

  Maybe after the new year . . .

  “Hey, Remi.”

  Lost in her daydreams of a tropical island drenched in golden sunlight, Remi abruptly jerked her head around at the sound of a familiar voice. “Jax?” she breathed, her gaze sweeping over him as he stepped into the office.

  He hadn’t changed much. There might be a little more silver in his hair, a few fine lines fanning from his eyes, but he was still as handsome as ever. And she’d bet good money he was wearing the same blue suit.

  “It’s been a while,” he said with a rueful smile.

  Dazed by his appearance, it took Remi a second to even consider why he might be at the youth center. Then an icy fear spread through her. Jax was a homicide detective. This couldn’t be good news. She placed her palms flat on the desk and pushed herself to her feet. “Are you here about Drew?”

  He looked puzzled by her question. “No.” He stepped away from the doorway. “Actually, I brought an old friend.”

  She released a shaky breath. He wasn’t here about one of her kids. The relief was so overwhelming, she didn’t even wonder who the old friend might be. Or even how Jax had known that she worked at the youth center.

  Her distraction meant she was utterly unprepared when the second man stepped into the room. A painful mistake, as the ground shifted beneath her feet and her brain froze. Ashland Marcel. Lord have mercy. It’d been five long years since he’d walked away from her, but the time melted away at the sight of his lean face.

  How many hours had she spent tracing each chiseled feature? The wide brow. The bold nose and astonishing blue eyes. He was more striking than handsome, but just the sight of him had been enough to make her heart thunder in her chest. And that hard, male body . . .

  She knew every inch.

  Intimately.

  Remi’s knees went weak and she dropped into her chair. Ash grimaced and hurried around the desk to crouch in front of her.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you,” he said in a soft voice, grasping her limp hands in a firm grip.

  Remi cleared the lump from her throat. “I’m fine,” she lied.

  She wasn’t fine. She felt like she’d just been sideswiped by a speeding freight train.

  “I’ll wait for you in the car,” Jax murmured.

  Coward, Remi inanely thought, watching as Jax backed out of the room.

  “Your hands are freezing,” Ash said, rubbing her fingers between his big palms.

  She shivered. But not because she was chilled. The shock was beginning to wear off enough for her to react to his familiar touch.

  Christ, it’d been so long. And no one had ever been able to cause those potent sparks of awareness. Just Ash.

  “This building is always cold,” she said, forcing herself to pull her hands free.

  Her poor brain was already struggling to process Ash’s sudden appearance. She didn’t need his touch adding to her befuddlement.

  Thankfully, he seemed to sense her need to regain command of her composure. Straightening, he turned to study the wooden shelves that were loaded with books and the five computers set on tables at the back. Everything was basic, but it served its purpose. The kids who came here needed the support of people who cared, not fancy equipment.

  Remi allowed her gaze to roam over his broad back that was covered by a silver cashmere sweater that he’d matched with charcoal slacks. She could detect the muscles beneath the soft material, but he looked thinner. As if he’d honed his body to pure bone and sinew.

  “Is this your classroom?” he asked, at last breaking the silence.

  Remi willed her heart to slow its frantic pace before she answered. “Not really a classroom,” she admitted. “I tutor the kids who come to the center.”

  He pivoted back to meet her wary gaze. “That’s what you always wanted to do.”

  Her lips twisted. They both knew it wasn’t exactly what she wanted to do. She’d gotten her master’s in education with the intention of becoming a full-time teacher who concentrated on at-risk students. She was going to change the world. Instead, she was a volunteer at a small center that made a minimal impact on the kids who walked through the door.

  Still, she at least was working her way back toward her dreams. She took great pride in her grim determination. “I’m enjoying it, at least for now,” she said with a shrug. “Of course, it’s not like being a college professor.”

  He rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his slacks. “True. You actually make a difference.”

  Her breath caught at his soft words. Lord, she’d missed this man over the past five years. She missed sleeping in his arms. And sending him a thousand texts a day just because she saw something that captured her imagination. But what she’d truly missed was his unique ability to make her feel good about herself.

  When she was with Ash, she could pretend that she was the smartest, most capable woman ever born. As if she could take on the world and win.

  Was it any wonder she’d tumbled head over heels in love with him?

  “Thanks,” she breathed.

  He cocked his head to the side, studying her with a puzzled gaze. “For what?”

  “Not many of my old friends understand why I would waste my degrees volunteering in this place.”

  His features softened. They both knew the reason she was there. And the effort it’d taken to get to this point.

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone,” he assured her. “Your true friends will support you no matter where you decide to work.”

  They shared a long, mutual glance of understanding. The sort of glance that only two people intimately connected could share.

  Time ticked past. A second—then ten—passed before the sound of someone walking nearby jerked Remi out of her strange sense of enchantment.

  Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. The days of lingering gazes were over. She’d made certain of that. Or at least she thought she had.

  “I assume you’re in town to spend the holidays with your family?” she asked, belatedly wondering why Ash would be at the youth center.

  Pity? Nostalgia? The ghost of Christmas past?

  His features hardened, as if her question had reminded him of something unpleasant. “I’m sure we’ll get together while I’m home.”

  Remi frowned. She knew that tone. There was something bothering Ash. “What’s going on?”

  She half-expected him to shrug aside her question. Whatever was troubling him couldn’t have any connection to her. Not after five years apart.

  Instead, he studied her upturned face with a brooding gaze. “I’m back because I thought you’d been hurt.”

  “Me?” She frowned in confusion. “Why would you think that?”

  His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. As if he was battling the urge to reach out and touch her. “Because there’s a woman who looks just like you in the morgue.”

  Remi blinked. “Why were you in the morgue?”

  “Jax came to the college and told me that you were there.”

  “Oh.” She was surprised by the thought of Jax upsetting Ash before he’d double-checked to see if he’d made a mistake. Even if they were no longer together, she’d once been Ash’s fiancée. Jax had to know that his brother would be devastated by the news. “It wasn’t me.”

  “Thank God. For a few hours . . .” With a fluid movement, Ash was once again bent down by her chair, reaching out to brush his fingers over her hair. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

  Her heart picked up speed as the warm scent of his skin teased at her nose. A renegade pang of yearning clutched at her heart.

  “I’m sorry you were worried, but as you see, I’m alive and well,” she said, forcing herself to speak in a bright voice. Having Ash so close was bringing back memories she’d put a lot of effort into buryin
g in the back of her mind. “Just a case of mistaken identity.”

  His fingers smoothed over her temple and down her cheek. “Maybe not so mistaken.”

  Pleasure sizzled through her at his light caress, but Remi grimly concentrated on his strange words. Later she would lie in bed with a glass of wine and recall the feel of his gentle touch. “Excuse me?”

  He paused, no doubt considering his words with care. Unlike the rest of the Marcel men, Ash preferred a slow, methodical approach rather than charging rashly into a situation.

  “The medical examiner found indications that the woman had recently undergone cosmetic surgery,” he finally said.

  “And?”

  “It was done to make her more closely resemble you.”

  Remi jerked, her heart slamming painfully against her ribs. A woman had surgery to look like her? And now she was in the morgue?

  No. That was insane.

  She gave a sharp shake of her head. “You can’t know that.”

  “No, not for sure,” he grudgingly conceded. “But there’s no doubt she had surgery.”

  She shrugged. “It was probably just a coincidence. I look like a hundred other women.”

  Ash made a strangled sound, his fingers cupping her chin. “Trust me, Remi. You don’t look like any other woman. You are unique. Something I’ve tried to forget.”

  She studied his pale face. There was a brittle tension in his expression that warned her he hadn’t told her everything. Not yet.

  She hesitated. Did she want to know? Right now, her life might be boring, but at least it was peaceful. Something she’d worked hard to achieve. Why risk having that taken away?

  The questions whispered through her mind, even as she stiffened her spine. What the hell was wrong with her? She wasn’t a coward. “What’s going on, Ash?”

  His thumb rubbed up and down the line of her jaw, a muscle twitching next to his eye.

  “Sorry,” he said in a rough voice. “I’m still trying to recover. My nerves are a little raw.”

  She held his guarded gaze. “There’s something bothering you besides the fact that this woman looked like me.”