Speak No Evil_ A Novel - Allison Brennan [89]
Nick tensed. Had the colonel been able to see him practically having sex with his daughter in his driveway? Nick was usually discreet about his relationships. Not that he and Carina had a relationship, especially now after he’d pushed her away.
“Dream of me tonight,” she’d said. And he definitely would.
“Bum knee?”
“You could say that.”
“Let me help you up the stairs.”
“I don’t need help.”
The colonel stood, extended his hand. “It’s not a sin to accept help once in a while.”
Damn. Nick would make it up the stairs alone. Struggling the entire way. Making the situation worse, which would mean paying for it in the morning.
“Thanks,” he managed to grunt out, taking the old man’s hand.
Wrapping an arm around the colonel’s shoulders while the colonel supported his back, Nick made it up the stairs without incident. He unlocked the door with the key he’d been given, and faced the colonel, embarrassed.
“Thank you,” he said clearly.
“Anytime, son.” He clapped Nick on the back.
Son.
His own father had rarely called him son.
For the second time in as many days, he’d felt more affection from a man he’d just met than he’d felt in a lifetime with his father.
TWENTY-FIVE
THE BRISK KNOCKING on the door woke Nick from a deep sleep. He sat up, trying to get his bearings. The Kincaid apartment. Right. Carina’s father had helped him up the stairs after their conversation.
He ran a hand through his damp hair. He’d slept rough, the memories and nightmares weaving in and out, deserting him finally to give him two hours of heavy sleep. The clock read 8:30. He never slept that late. But after the colonel helped him up the stairs, they’d shared a couple shots of good whiskey, talked some more. Nick didn’t know if it was the colonel’s way of sizing him up for his daughter, or just because he was a guest at their house. But he’d enjoyed the company.
Expecting to find Carina on the doorstep, he couldn’t hide his surprise when Dillon Kincaid stood outside with two tall mugs of coffee. He handed one to Nick. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Nick stepped aside, sipped the coffee. “I guess I slept in. Did we have a meeting scheduled?”
“No.”
“Any word from Patrick about the MyJournal information?”
“Not that I know.”
“You know he’s going to kill again.” Nick pulled on a T-shirt and sat on a chair at the small table. He sipped the coffee; it was rich and spicy, and hit the spot.
“If we don’t find him. Third time’s the charm—separates the standard killer from the serial killer. Angie, Becca, Jodi. I wish we had more evidence, but it looks like you and the rest of the team have been working virtually around the clock.” Dillon sat down across from him, sipped his own coffee.
“I’d say yes, except you caught me sleeping in.” Nick played with the mug. “Why Becca?” he asked. “She doesn’t fit the profile.”
“There’s definitely a connection, even if she doesn’t fit what we think is the profile. Becca didn’t have a MyJournal page, didn’t spend any time online that wasn’t related to school or e-mailing friends. But there is a connection between Becca and the killer, probably through the library. My biggest question right now is, why? Why did he go after Becca now? When we knew he had targeted Jodi.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Nick said.
“You have a theory?”
Nick paused to put together his thoughts. “You heard about the webcam in Jodi’s apartment, right?”
Dillon nodded.
“Patrick said it was installed Wednesday, late morning or afternoon. Which makes sense because we determined that the girls were out of the apartment at that time. Jodi’s window was unlocked. Whether she did it or the killer did it, we don’t know.”
“Becca was abducted Wednesday night, not Jodi.”
“Right. Why?”
Dillon thought, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe he couldn’t get to Jodi.”
“Exactly. Because she didn’t drink the right beverage. He drugged every open container. There were a couple of beer bottles