Seven Bridges Page 8

  "By the book," Leo answered, meaning that with all sincerity. This time feelings could not come into play. "This time, it has to be by the book. For all of us."

  What he didn't add was something that had been eating at him ever since Gib said he was going to try and convince Izzi to come back. Leo couldn't say it aloud, but he feared that if they didn't go by the book, and keep it strictly professional, the monster she once told him she feared, would somehow zero in on her.

  And Izzi would die.

  No matter how much physical or emotional distance stood between them now, Leo couldn't bear the thought of that. He knew they weren't meant for one another. But she still owned a piece of his heart, and he wasn't ready for that piece to be shattered.

  Cabarrus County, North Carolina

  Izzi's mind would give her no peace. Memories assailed her, demanding attention. At present she was caught in a remembrance of the day she met Leo Grant. It was 2005 and she was a Sophomore at the University of North Carolina…

  Why had meeting Leo Grant caused her to be taken with thoughts of her past and all its terror and pain? She'd left his car ten minutes ago but felt she was still trapped by his presence. Her pace increased until she was running. What was he meant to be to her? She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She just wanted to be somewhere safe, somewhere private.

  Her dorm room. She ran until her breath was ragged, bolted up the stairs and into her room. Izzi locked the door, hurried to the window and opened it wide. She stood there for several minutes, feeling the fresh air in her face and letting the familiar sounds from the dormitory soothe her.

  Meeting with Leo Grant had delivered unexpected surprises, and she needed time to assimilate and organize all the images that'd flooded her mind. She knew better than to try and force it. Things would make sense on their own when her mind finished processing. Until then, the best thing she could do was busy her brain with something else.

  The something else that pressed at her wasn't what she wanted in her mind. Speaking with Leo had resurrected old terrors and pains, along with old questions.

  Isabelle hadn't been entirely honest with Leo.

  There were things she couldn't bring herself to say, couldn't force the words from her lips.

  How, once she was bound, the killer had stroked her face, whispered to her that she was his special girl.

  Izzi would rather have her tongue cut out than to tell anyone about that, or about the other things.

  Things the doctors had not thought to look for when they examined her. The demon thought he'd made her his that day.

  He was wrong. She'd never be his anything, other than his slayer if given the opportunity. She prayed God would grant her the chance to fill that vital role. Izzi wasn't a religious person, but she firmly believed that evil was real, and there had to be warriors willing to fight it. Destroy it. She wanted desperately to be the warrior who vanquished this monster.

  No, she'd not tell anyone about those things. She'd spent the better part of her life wishing she could forget them. There were things about that day she couldn't remember, gaps in her memory. As much as she wanted to forget what she did remember about that day, she'd never been able to stop trying to fill in the blanks. Why was it such an obsession?

  Would it help her to destroy the monster if she remembered?

  When she was fourteen, she realized that until she filled in the missing time, she would never find real peace or be able to move on. The trouble was, she didn't know how to look for the missing pieces to her gruesome puzzle. There was no one alive who could help her.

  No one but him.

  She wasn't ready to face him and would continue to hide from him for now. One day she'd be strong enough to take him on, and then she'd open a door in her walls. She knew he'd sense it and he'll call to her.

  Isabelle had no clue if she'd survive that encounter, but sometimes that didn't matter. What did matter was getting to the truth. After that, she supposed it was up to fate, and if there was a God, to her being granted her wish.

  To destroy the monster in the dark.

  Hours passed and the room began to lighten, signaling the coming of dawn. Izzi felt Gib's slow breathing against her back and the touch of his warm hand on her hip. Please, God, if you're real, please don't let him be hurt again. Don't let any of them be hurt by the monster who stalks me. If my blood will stop him from killing more innocents, then let him have me.

  But if my blood won't appease him, then give me the power to destroy him. Once and for all. If it's a sin to put an end to this kind of evil, then place that sin on me and judge me for it. Just please, don't let anything happen to the people I love. Please.

  It wasn't lost on her that her plea today was the same as what she'd prayed for twelve years ago and twenty-two years ago. To destroy the monster who'd taken her family from her. To end his evil and keep him from taking more lives.

  Until this moment, she hadn't wanted to admit how much she wanted that or how much of her courage she'd lost. Seeing Gib nearly die from being stabbed by the monster, watching him fight for life and then hang in the gray place, that space between life and death for almost a month, had shattered her. She was sure she'd never survive that kind of pain if she had to go through it again.

  Now, she made up her mind that wouldn't happen. She'd find the strength and courage, and she'd armor herself for battle. Her monster wanted one thing. Her. So, if she couldn't help the BAU find and stop him, then she'd give herself to him, and pray the angels were on her side.

  Because one way or the other, this time, only one of them would walk away.

  PART 2

  "Hell is empty – all the devils are here."

  William Shakespeare

  Chapter Seven

  Izzi leaned against the door with her arm propped up, holding loosely to the oh-shit handle as she called it, mounted just above the door. Her head rested against her arm, and sunglasses hid her eyes.

  She'd been quiet ever since they left her home and spent the first two hours going over everything the FBI had on the last Seven Bridges killings. Gib had called the BAU and asked to have it sent to his iPad and gave it to her as soon as they were on the road. He wondered if she was having second thoughts about her decision to take the consulting position with the BAU.

  "No," her soft voice broke the silence.

  "No, what?"

  "No, I'm not thinking of backing out. After reading the file and looking at the evidence and forensic reports, I think this crime is … different. He's too smart to make these mistakes, so either it isn't him or…"

  She turned to look at Gib. "Or he's up to something new."

  "Meaning?"

  "I'm not sure yet. But this is not the same at all."

  "Exactly what Galen and Leo have been saying."

  "And you? What do you think?"

  "I'm not sure yet."

  "Smart answer."

  She turned away again, and there was another half hour of silence before she spoke again.

  "The other case – the Cheerleader Killer?"

  "What about it?"

  "Why target Cheerleaders?"

  "That's the question, isn't it?"

  "It is. Are we going to the scene of the last killing?"

  "Actually, we're scheduled to leave this evening to visit both crime scenes."

  "Good."

  "Good?"

  "Yes," she nodded. "Is the entire team going?"

  "Yes, as always."

  "And who will I answer to?"

  "Me."

  "You think that's smart?"

  "You don't?"

  For the first time since he arrived at her home, her mood lightened, and the Izzi he knew and loved emerged. "Well, you know how I get about good-looking men in power. I mean, I'll do my best to keep to the yes sir and no sir, but you might want to keep your distance. Just in case … you know, I get overpowered by that air of command."

  Gib smirked. "Smartass."

  "I have my moments," she
agreed lightheartedly, then grew somber. "Seriously, are you certain this isn't going to be an issue for Leo or G? They have seniority, and I don't want to step on any toes with my insights – or lack thereof."

  "That won't be an issue."

  "I hope not."

  "Why would you think it might?"

  Izzi shrugged. "I don't know. With Leo, it probably wouldn't be. He'd tell me straight up if I overstepped. But Galen? I guess I just never quite got the hang of being completely at ease around him. He's brilliant, insightful, and methodical, and I admire that, but he's so…"

  "So what?" Gib asked when she left the thought unspoken.

  She cut him a look over the top of her glasses. "Smoking hot and aware of it."

  "Seriously?" That came as a shock.

  "Oh, come on, you'd have to be blind not to realize that. He's incredibly handsome and very charismatic and seductive. I've paid a lot of attention to how woman respond to him."

  "Which is?"

  "Well, first they're a bit star-struck over his looks. It's like coming face-to-face with a movie star and you know what I mean. I bet he had a lot of women wanting to be his Thelma or Louise when he was younger, and his looks didn't fade as he aged. He's one of those men who is always going to stand out because of his physical appearance.

  "Then there's that smile he gives them like he just got his first look at what just might prove to be the ruling passion in his life. That figuratively knocks women off their feet. By the time he speaks to them in that low, this is just between the two of us voice, he has them – hook, line, and sinker. He could ask them to jump off a building, and they'd be damned tempted."

  Gib chuckled. "I never knew you'd given Galen so much thought."

  "I give everyone thought."

  "So, this analysis – does it hold true for you as well?"

  "No, but that's because I know that ninety-percent of his charm is a tool, just like your ability to hear the space between people's words and dig beneath what they say, or Leo's skill in discerning whether someone is telling the truth. G's one of the smartest people I've ever met, and sure, he has a new woman every week, but I get the feeling he's a lonely person because no matter how crazy a woman is about him, he doesn't feel the same."

  "You mean he doesn't fall in love?"

  "Not now. Maybe once. Sometimes it feels like he lost the girl he loved or never told her or … I don't know exactly. Once, I thought perhaps he's gay, but in observing him when Leo and I would go out with him, I quickly dropped that hypothesis. Men come onto him, but he clearly isn't interested. Was he ever married or engaged?"

  "You never asked him?" Gib cut a look at her.

  "No, I didn't feel like it was my place. Besides, the times I've interacted with him were either about a case or in a social setting with other people. When it was related to a case, I paid attention to his insights, and when it was social, I just enjoyed his sense of humor and the fact that he's a great dancer and likes to have fun. But back to my question."

  "He's never been married or engaged that I'm aware," Gib replied and then added. "Perhaps it has something to do with how he grew up. He lost his mother at an early age. Seven, I think. His father was in sales and traveled a lot, so he spent a good deal of time alone. His father's sister, who was older and unmarried, cared for him when his father was gone. She died the summer after Galen graduated high school. He was alone after that."

  "Sounds like a lonely life." Izzi knew how that felt, and for the first time since she'd become acquainted with the man, she felt a common bond.

  "Why the sudden interest in Galen?" Gib asked. "In all the years since you met him, you're just now curious?"

  Izzi laughed. "No. I was always curious. I just kept it to myself and thought if I kept watching, I'd eventually figure him out. I can't say I ever really did."

  "You mean you can't read him?"

  "Some. Mostly surface stuff, like the burger gave him indigestion, or he hated the movie he went to the night before or once that the woman he went out with smelled like fried chicken. Even her hair."

  Gib laughed. "Profound impressions for sure."

  "Oh yeah, no doubt. But the point is, he's one of those people who're pretty shut down emotionally. I guess maybe it does stem from childhood. I'm living proof that childhood can screw a person up."

  "I don't think you're screwed up."

  Izzi blew a raspberry in derision. "Liar. You know I am. I'm just a highly functional screwed up person. But all that… stuff…the fear and pain and memories I don't want …it's all there, tormenting me when my mind gets quiet."

  Gib reached for her hand. "I know, but you're stronger than all of it, and you don't let it control you."

  "Like I said, highly functional screw up."

  "If that's how you choose to label it, although I disagree. Still, it did seem there were times when it wasn't so bad."

  "Because of you," she gave his hand a squeeze and admitted something she'd never said aloud. "When I'm with you, it's easier to keep the monsters at bay, or at least easier to be brave and sneer at them in the darkness. I know you'd die to save me, and I would for you."

  This time when Gib looked at her, there was no smile on his face. "Iz, there's something I need to say to you. Something you wouldn't allow me to say before, and I'm asking that you give me that chance now."

  She already knew what he wanted to say, and she wasn't sure she wanted him to say it, but she owed it to him to listen, so she nodded.

  "Thank you. I know I would have died if you hadn't stepped in, offered yourself to him if he let me live. I never got the chance to thank you for saving me. Not properly. Hell, I don't even remember anything after you shot at him. Not until I woke up to be told I'd lost two months of my life being in a coma.

  "No," he ran his left hand over his beard. "That's not true. I do remember things, but I don't know how much was real since I was unconscious."

  "What do you remember?"

  "You. Your hand holding mine, you stroking my face or rubbing my arm. Talking to me, telling me how much you needed me and how I needed to come back. I wanted to. I wanted to tell you how thankful I was and how incredibly brave you were. After being his prisoner for nearly three months, to offer to go back into that cage…"

  "Stop. Seriously, pull over Gib. There, at that next exit."

  He did, and once he'd exited off the highway, he turned into the lot of a convenience store and parked. "Okay, what's wrong? If it's me saying–"

  "No. I mean, yes. No, wait," Izzi held up one hand. "First, you never ever have to thank me for that. It was every bit as much for me as for you. There are things I can live with, things I can live without, and things I can endure. You not being part of my world, isn't on either list. I'd rather have died than lived without you, so don't make me a hero.

  "And you have to have figured it out a long time ago – particularly when he had me locked up. He's not ready to kill me. He might not ever be. As crazy as it sounds, I think he sees me as his creation. If he hadn't killed my family, if he hadn't cut my eyes, then I may not have ended up with–with an unusual physical appearance that sets me apart from others, along with extra senses. He sees himself as Dr. Frankenstein and me as his creation."

  She still couldn't bring herself to confess the complete truth of what had transpired the night her mother and brother were murdered. Izzi wasn't sure she'd ever be able to force those words from her lips. If she did, she feared she'd make his taunt a reality.

  You're mine, Isabelle. My special girl, my one true love.

  Izzi shook those thoughts away and continued with what she could say. "In his sick and twisted way, he loves me, and I'm starting to think what he'd like is for me to succumb to him–to his ways and become… I don't know, his cheerleader or acolyte.

  "He wants me to love him.

  "And that's the one thing I won't do. I hate him, and I fully intend to end him. But I'll play my own game and fool him if I can, whatever it takes to get me face-to-face with
him when the time is right. I want to look him in the eyes, tear the mask from his face and see him for who he is.

  "But that's not the point – so let me make this clear. You owe me nothing. You pulled me from that cage, from that dank basement where I thought I'd spend the rest of my life. But you heard me. You heard me calling to you and you came for me, even when it wasn't sanctioned and even when you knew you might be killed. So, if there's a hero in our tale, Gib, it's you, and if you're smart, you won't argue with me on this."

  He looked at her for a long time, then shook his head and smiled. "Damn it all, Iz, if you're not the most confounding woman I've ever met."

  "Yes, I am. I admit it. But you love me, and together we're going to trap monsters and make the world a safer place. Right, Mr. Special Agent in Charge?"

  "Right, Dr. Adams. So, can I get back on the road?"

  "Absolutely."

  Once they were back on the highway, he cut a look at her. "Okay, let's go back to the Cheerleader Killer and what you said."

  "Why Cheerleaders, you mean?" She looked out of the side window. "I'm sure you all have looked at it six ways from Sunday. Tell me the profile the team came up with."

  "That's just it. We haven't. Nothing fits. What would make a man want to kill Cheerleaders for professional sports teams? We looked at all the possibilities. Was he involved with one and dumped? Did he get rejected when he made an advance on a cheerleader? Was someone he loved mistreated by a cheerleader? Did his girl try out and not make the cut? We made a list of every possibility we could think of and can't make any of the dots connect."

  She turned the iPad on and reassessed the information. For an hour, neither of them spoke. Then she looked over at him. "You're right, it doesn't make sense. There's nothing that connects these women aside from the fact they're cheerleaders for a professional sports team – football and now basketball. What connects those two sports?"

  "I wish I knew. Hopefully, when we visit the last scene, we'll see something everyone else missed."

  She nodded and set the tablet aside again. "Can we stop at your house so I can change before we go to the Center?"