Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 by Alison Stone, Terri Reed, Maggie K. Black Page B
Tags: Love Inspired Suspense
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him?
She couldnât deny how good it felt to have someone to share this load with. Especially a good-looking, conscientious man such as Drew.
No. She stopped that thought in its tracks. She wouldnât go there. She couldnât let this become personal. She couldnât let her heart become attached to this man. He was in the same business as she was; his job required risk, just as hers did. If he was willing to take on this burden, then she had to stay focused on what was important.
This was about bringing justice to women who didnât deserve to die. She needed to stay dedicated to her goal, stay in control of her emotions. Mixing business with pleasure never ended well.
Sheâd already made that mistake once and wasnât going to do it again.
However, two smart brains had to be better than the one psychopath.
Who was she to argue with God?
âAll right. We go to Portland.â
She prayed Birdman wouldnât anticipate that they would return to Portland rather than follow his bread crumbs. Someone else would check the hotel. She didnât envy them the job.
* * *
When they arrived in Portland, Drew was grateful for the more temperate weather. The sky was blue, the sun shining, but the temperature was in the seventies. Sami had parked her small economical car in the airportâs three-story parking garage. They left the airport and joined the congested freeway leading into downtown Portland. Drew had never been to the City of Roses before, so he was impressed by the cityscape.
Heâd heard of the many bridges crossing the Willamette River, which bisected the city. He counted four before Sami turned off the freeway and wound through a neighborhood she referred to as Hawthorne District, named for the main avenue that ran from the river and traveled east for several blocks. Drew thought the area very avant-garde with trendy shops and coffeehouses. A place heâd like to explore given the chance.
She turned down a residential side street and pulled the car into the single driveway of a quaint-looking home painted a sunny yellow. A well-kept patch of lawn and shrubs provided pleasing curb appeal. Red flowers offered a pop of color in baskets hanging from the porch beams. Sami unlocked the door and walked in.
An eerie sensation of being watched tapped into Drewâs consciousness. He glanced behind him, studying the neighborhood for a moment. Cars were parked along both sides of the narrow tree-lined street of the genteel neighborhood. But no one was about in the middle of this Tuesday afternoon.
Shaking off the sensation, he stepped inside the house and immediately noted the built-in gas fireplace and bookshelves that had been painted white and dominated a half wall to his left and a grouping of comfortable-looking furniture in the middle of the living room that provided a cozy conversation area. Recessed windows allowed natural light to fill the house.
âHome, sweet home,â Sami said, shutting the door behind him. âI have a spare room upstairs you can use.â She led the way toward a staircase.
He followed but halted when he glanced into the dining room. Though a table and chairs stood in the center, his gaze was riveted on the walls, which were covered with photocopies of police reports, newspaper clippings and copies of crime scene photographs, along with DMV-issued photographs of several women.
A large map of North America had been tacked onto a huge piece of corkboard. A colorful array of small pushpins dotted the map.
Unnerved by the pins, he set his suitcase on the floor and moved closer.
âYou can see his pattern moving across the US,â Sami said, joining him at the board after leaving her suitcase on the bottom stair. She picked up a box of pushpins and added one to Phoenix. She held up another pushpin. âNow heâs crossed over the boundary between our countries.â She tacked the pin into the little red circle indicating
She couldnât deny how good it felt to have someone to share this load with. Especially a good-looking, conscientious man such as Drew.
No. She stopped that thought in its tracks. She wouldnât go there. She couldnât let this become personal. She couldnât let her heart become attached to this man. He was in the same business as she was; his job required risk, just as hers did. If he was willing to take on this burden, then she had to stay focused on what was important.
This was about bringing justice to women who didnât deserve to die. She needed to stay dedicated to her goal, stay in control of her emotions. Mixing business with pleasure never ended well.
Sheâd already made that mistake once and wasnât going to do it again.
However, two smart brains had to be better than the one psychopath.
Who was she to argue with God?
âAll right. We go to Portland.â
She prayed Birdman wouldnât anticipate that they would return to Portland rather than follow his bread crumbs. Someone else would check the hotel. She didnât envy them the job.
* * *
When they arrived in Portland, Drew was grateful for the more temperate weather. The sky was blue, the sun shining, but the temperature was in the seventies. Sami had parked her small economical car in the airportâs three-story parking garage. They left the airport and joined the congested freeway leading into downtown Portland. Drew had never been to the City of Roses before, so he was impressed by the cityscape.
Heâd heard of the many bridges crossing the Willamette River, which bisected the city. He counted four before Sami turned off the freeway and wound through a neighborhood she referred to as Hawthorne District, named for the main avenue that ran from the river and traveled east for several blocks. Drew thought the area very avant-garde with trendy shops and coffeehouses. A place heâd like to explore given the chance.
She turned down a residential side street and pulled the car into the single driveway of a quaint-looking home painted a sunny yellow. A well-kept patch of lawn and shrubs provided pleasing curb appeal. Red flowers offered a pop of color in baskets hanging from the porch beams. Sami unlocked the door and walked in.
An eerie sensation of being watched tapped into Drewâs consciousness. He glanced behind him, studying the neighborhood for a moment. Cars were parked along both sides of the narrow tree-lined street of the genteel neighborhood. But no one was about in the middle of this Tuesday afternoon.
Shaking off the sensation, he stepped inside the house and immediately noted the built-in gas fireplace and bookshelves that had been painted white and dominated a half wall to his left and a grouping of comfortable-looking furniture in the middle of the living room that provided a cozy conversation area. Recessed windows allowed natural light to fill the house.
âHome, sweet home,â Sami said, shutting the door behind him. âI have a spare room upstairs you can use.â She led the way toward a staircase.
He followed but halted when he glanced into the dining room. Though a table and chairs stood in the center, his gaze was riveted on the walls, which were covered with photocopies of police reports, newspaper clippings and copies of crime scene photographs, along with DMV-issued photographs of several women.
A large map of North America had been tacked onto a huge piece of corkboard. A colorful array of small pushpins dotted the map.
Unnerved by the pins, he set his suitcase on the floor and moved closer.
âYou can see his pattern moving across the US,â Sami said, joining him at the board after leaving her suitcase on the bottom stair. She picked up a box of pushpins and added one to Phoenix. She held up another pushpin. âNow heâs crossed over the boundary between our countries.â She tacked the pin into the little red circle indicating
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