The Final Deception Read online

  “Neither does your fiancée. But with Nicholson on the loose, we don’t know, do we?” Egan asked. He swore softly, something Craig didn’t often hear him do.

  “Every officer is on the prowl for the man—and we’ve got nothing!” Egan said with disgust.

  “Sir, it’s barely been over twenty-four hours since he escaped,” Craig reminded him.

  Egan looked at the agent and said, “We had him. And we lost him. And he may be killing again—or he may have an apprentice. Anyway...” He stared at the dumpster.

  Dr. Layton was directing his assistants as they moved the body from its position among the garbage.

  “Go home,” Egan said to Craig. “You and Mike go home. Start fresh in the morning. Maybe Layton will find something in the autopsy, something to help explain this bizarre business and how this killer is moving around with a body and not being seen!”

  “I—”

  “Go home. You found the route out of the basement. You found your man.”

  “Dead.”

  “Dead whether you’d found him or not. And yes, eventually, he would have been found. But we’re a step ahead. You found him before he could wind up in the dump, mangled beyond description. Go home, and for the love of God, take a really long shower.” He started to turn away, but he hesitated, frowning.

  “Where is the dog?” he asked.

  Craig pointed. Ruff had been lying at the foot of the dumpster. He seemed to believe someone was going to help his master. He made no attempt to growl or snap at the men and women from the coroner’s office or from the crime scene department.

  He just whined now and then, pressing his head between his paws.

  Mike, still standing by the dumpster, looking for anything that might go amiss, paused now and then to pat the little dog on the head.

  “Well, his owner is gone,” Egan said quietly. “But I’m guessing he’s not going to animal services?”

  “I’m guessing he’s not,” Craig said.

  “Then may I give you another suggestion?”

  “Yes, of course. You may always suggest, sir.”

  Egan lowered his head for a minute and then looked at Craig, a grim smile on his face.

  “Give the dog a bath, too. As quickly as possible.”

  * * *

  Kieran had talked Declan into walking with her the short distance to her apartment, but once there he didn’t want to leave.

  It was nice to have her brothers care about her the way they did. But she was getting a bit irritated. It was growing later and later, and Declan was going through every room and into every closet. He looked under the beds, and behind the shower curtain in the master bath, and in the bath on the ground floor of the loft.

  She walked along with him, trying to assure him.

  “Declan, Egan said there’s an agent watching the place.”

  “I didn’t see an agent.”

  “Come to the windows.” Opening the curtains in the master bedroom, she encouraged him to look down.

  A black sedan was parked along the side of the road—where it really shouldn’t be.

  “Bureau car?” he asked her.

  She nodded. “See? Egan’s watching out. And I keep telling you all Nicholson doesn’t think I’m wicked. I’m not in any danger from him.”

  “You’re convinced you read him correctly?”

  Kieran hesitated. “I’d never ask anyone else to believe me blindly, especially where personal safety is concerned. But I’m sure.”

  “All right. You’ll call—”

  “I have an agent outside,” she said again.

  And finally she was able to show Declan out. He hovered on the other side of the door. “Door’s locked, alarm on?”

  “Yes! Go back to work!”

  And, finally, he went away.

  He was gone only a few minutes, and she had barely set her laptop up on the kitchen counter when her cell rang. It was Craig, and she answered it quickly.

  “You heard, right? You were with Egan when we called him about Blom?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re done here. I’m heading home. I’m sorry. I’m not in a pub mood.”

  “I’m not at the pub. I’m home.”

  “Oh, uh, okay. Good. I’m on the Upper East Side but heading out now.”

  “I brought food home for you. I’ll go ahead and heat it up.”

  “That’s great.” He was quiet a minute and then said. “Kieran?”

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t leave him. I can’t leave him here.”

  She frowned, for a moment having a horrible vision of Craig referring to a dead man in a dumpster.

  Then, of course, she knew.

  “I didn’t think, if you didn’t find Olav Blom alive, that you would leave him.”

  “Thanks. But you know, in the city, a dog...”

  “It’s fine. He’s going to need people. He’s an amazing little pup. Too bad his name is Ruff. I’d have called him Scruffy.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, I get it. I like the dog, too, okay?”

  “Yep. One more thing—I smell really bad.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s why God invented water and soap and all that.”

  “And the dog smells really, really bad.”

  “I’ll be ready.”

  “I was going to suggest you lock yourself in a room. And get out the disinfectant spray.”

  “You take care of you. I’ll take care of the dog. Just get home—please.”

  “Okay, okay, the stinking dog is all yours. See you soon.”

  Kieran smiled at the phone as she hit the end button.

  She started to sit at her computer, but instead stood restlessly.

  She had the notes Drs. Fuller and Miro had made while they were interviewing not just Nicholson, but those in his life.

  His sons.

  Were they really as removed from their parents’ beliefs as they purported to be?

  She wandered to the window, thinking she’d like to talk to the two boys. Maybe their mother had suggested they not talk to her.

  Even if they didn’t believe in their father’s voices, they might not be that removed from their insular church.

  Pulling back the drape, she saw the moon was rising; the rain had come and gone.

  The sky was dark, oddly deep blue with shadows of clouds still hovering, but the moon was breaking through.

  Across the street, near the corner, she saw a man. He was tall, wearing a hat pulled low, and a trench coat that fell just past his knees.

  She could see nothing of his face, despite the pool of multicolored light from the traffic signal.

  He was doing nothing; just standing. But she thought he was looking toward her apartment building.

  She found herself thinking of the man who had been in the pub—the one she had chased but had disappeared. The one who had also donned a trench coat.

  It was spring in New York; certainly hundreds, if not thousands, of men were walking the streets in trench coats.

  For a moment her heartbeat quickened. But at that same time, she noted the open driver’s door of the sedan parked in the street, and she saw a man step out and lean against the car.

  He was in a simple, dark blue suit. Dark, nondescript car, dark nondescript suit. Looking around—before lighting up a cigarette.

  She smiled. She looked across the street again. For a minute she could still see the tall man in a trench coat.

  Then a crowd of people walked around him, stopping for the light.

  He seemed to meld into the group. When the signal changed, the man in the trench coat was gone.

  Below her, the agent who had stepped from the sedan finished his cigarette, tossed the butt, and retu
rned to the car.

  * * *

  “You don’t want to touch me. Really, you don’t want to touch me,” Craig told Kieran as she walked toward the door, ready to greet him. She paused, surveying him, her lips tightened in a grimace.

  “I got a whiff from here,” she said. And then—his fault, as he didn’t have a good hold on Ruff’s leash—the dog took off, leaving his side and catapulting himself halfway up Kieran’s body. She caught the dog and winced as he bestowed a trail of wet dog-kisses on her cheek.

  “Oh, I see...he, ugh, reeks...anyway, I’ll give the dog a bath downstairs. That leaves you the upstairs. Thankfully, we’ve got a bunch of antibacterial soaps around!”

  She turned away from him, heading for the downstairs bathroom with Ruff in her arms.

  She called back over her shoulder, “Don’t forget the alarm.”

  “Never would,” he promised.

  “And Egan’s been great. Did you see the man downstairs?” she called.

  “I did. Special Agent Milo DeLuca. Good guy, young. But you missed his partner—old Andy Kane, another good guy—nonsmoker, spends half the day chastising Milo. We’re in good hands. They’ll be here through the night.”

  Her voice was more distant—she’d evidently gone into the bathroom—when she called out, “Great!”

  Craig double-checked the alarm and headed up the stairs. He was glad Kieran had been conscientious about the apartment’s security.

  So far all the victims, whether the last two had belonged to Nicholson or not, had been easy targets. From the prostitutes to the very wealthy Mayhew, none of them was in any kind of law enforcement and none had been military. They hadn’t been enthusiasts of target shooting or martial arts. Easy prey.

  He wondered if a man like Nicholson would have tried anything if any of his victims had been prepared to fight.

  Egan was right; there was a time when you just had to bathe—and in bathing, shake it all off for a while.

  His favorite thing about their new apartment—the one they’d now decided was really going to be a long-time home—was that the shower quickly produced hot water. It had a powerful spray, and it lasted long enough to really wash the day away.

  He poured shampoo generously into his hands for his hair, lathered up, rinsed, and then did it all over again. He scrubbed his body—just about scoured it.

  He was finally feeling clean—maybe he’d even scrubbed off a small layer of skin—when he heard the door to the bathroom open. The room was filled with so much steam he might have been in a dense fog, but he knew Kieran had come in.

  She slipped into the shower behind him, arms encircling him, resting her head against the expanse of his back for a moment.

  He closed his eyes, just feeling her there.

  Then he turned, taking her into his arms. He just held her.

  She lifted her head to his.

  “Ruff?” he asked.

  “Clean as a whistle. He doesn’t mind a bath. Of course, he shook it off several times, apparently thinking I needed a bath as well, so...figured I might as well join you. We could all be squeaky clean.”

  “And Ruff now?”

  “Well, I’m thinking he was a fairly pampered pooch, so I dried him all off. He didn’t mind the blow-dryer, by the way. Seemed to expect it as his due after a bath, and I put him to bed.”

  “In our bed?” Craig asked, wincing.

  “Oh, no. Ruff has the guest bedroom. I didn’t put him on the bed. I made him a little bed. We’ll have to see where we go from here.”

  He touched her chin, studying her eyes.

  “You know his owner is dead.”

  “I do.”

  “But you should have seen that dog. His loyalty... I swear, when he was under the dumpster while the ME and the crime scene people were working...”

  “Yes, it’s all right.”

  “What’s all right?”

  “I’ve always wanted a dog. I was thinking of something more like a husky or a shepherd...something a bit bigger. But Ruff has a big heart. That’s the best big, right?”

  He nodded, pulled her closer, and gently kissed her lips.

  It was a tender kiss, full of emotion. But they were both naked. Steaming hot, slick...

  The kiss deepened. He felt her hands slip down his spine to his rear. His hands molded the perfect curves of her breasts. He pressed closer.

  Kieran’s feet suddenly slipped out from beneath her; Craig caught her, his heart racing.

  She laughed. “How much soap did you use?”

  “A lot,” he admitted, grinning. He turned slightly to steady her, also starting to slip.

  Kieran grabbed the shower door, threw it open and staggered out, reaching back for him—still beautifully naked.

  He managed to twist the tap off, then catch her hand, and emerge without sliding on the slick tile.

  The steamy fog remained all around them. Groping for a towel, he wrapped her in it. Then he took her into his arms again.

  “Like a fantasy,” he whispered. He loved the way her eyes, a mix of sapphire and jade, looked up into his, ever so slightly mischievous and ever so slightly wary.

  He swept her up into his arms, stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, unwrapping the towel as if she were an amazing gift to be discovered.

  Exactly what she was...

  She gazed at him for a moment, then rose to meet him, casting her arms around his neck and meeting him in a kiss...a really delicious kiss, as sleekly wet and steaming as the shower. They were familiar lovers now, with four years of falling in love and figuring each other out behind them. Even with that kind of love, each touch was new again, savored afresh. He knew every inch of her body, the silk of her flesh, the sweep of her hair, the way she writhed, and what to do to make her move in just that way.

  They kissed, teased, and played, fingertips sweeping over skin, followed by light kisses and then urgent caresses until they joined together.

  And then bliss. The world gone for those moments, only the heat and the thudding of his heart.

  After, they lay entwined, slowly coming down...still keeping the world at bay.

  She snuggled against him, head resting on his chest, and she murmured, “Better?”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “Oh, dear, what?”

  “Don’t you dare tell me that was...medicinal sex?”

  She laughed and lightly smacked his shoulder.

  “No, but I do like to hope I can make a day better.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Just by being, my love, you make any day better.”

  “Ah, very well spoken. Great line, by the way.”

  He chuckled.

  “Your nonbroken bones should be thanking me,” she assured him, smiling. “That entire bathroom is a Slip ’N Slide.”

  He shrugged. “Ah, yeah, sorry.” He pulled her close.

  “I’m so sorry you had a bad day,” she murmured. “I know you wanted to find Blom alive.”

  “I always want to find a victim alive,” he said softly. “I didn’t know Blom.”

  “But you know...Ruff.”

  She barely spoke the dog’s name before the plaintive sound of a broken howl came to them.

  “What is going on? Did the moon rise or something?” Craig muttered, rising and reaching down to the footboard bedpost for his robe.

  “Hey!” She was up quicker than a wink. “You—back in bed. You had a really, really long day.”

  “But the dog—”

  “He likes me best, anyway. I guess dogs go through a grieving process, too.”

  She was determined. Craig dropped his robe and lifted his hands in acquiescence. “The dog does like you best,” he said simply.

  “Go to sleep,” she commanded, slipping into her own robe. She
glanced back at him. “Tomorrow is Sunday, but I know you. You’ll be working.”

  “Yeah, and I know you. You’ll work at the pub.”

  “I can go in anytime I so desire,” she said, reminding him she wasn’t an employee, and if she didn’t go in at all, it would be just fine. “I don’t really work until Monday. So, you get some rest. I’m going to go down and bond with a bereaved dog. Besides,” she added with a grimace, “I’m a trained psychologist. I often work with those who are going through a loss process.”

  “You’ve become a dog whisperer?” he asked.

  “Whatever. Go to sleep!” she commanded, and then she was gone.

  He smiled slowly; as he lay back down, he could still hear Ruff’s mournful cries.

  Then, the dog fell silent.

  He shrugged to himself.

  The dog did like Kieran better. Hey, he didn’t blame the pooch. What was there not to like?

  Craig was bone-tired; in moments, he was asleep.

  By rote and an internal alarm clock, he woke at 7:30 a.m. He felt as though he had just shut his eyes mere seconds ago.

  He rose and dressed in a hurry. Downstairs, peeking into the guest room, he saw Kieran had fallen asleep there. Ruff was curled to her side.

  The dog looked up at him as he stood in the doorway.

  Craig could swear the darned mutt smiled.

  He shook his head with amusement and silently left the two of them there. In the kitchen he quickly grabbed a thermal mug and filled it with some coffee to go.

  The beeps of the keypad as he reset the alarm sounded loud in the quiet apartment. He let himself out, double-checking that he’d locked up.

  Yeah, it was Sunday.

  And it was going to be another long day.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THERE WERE TIMES when Kieran wished she could thank her parents.

  She’d been young when the Finnegan siblings had lost their mother, and it had been some years ago now that their father had passed away. They had been great parents, she often thought. Sure, her brothers had gone a little wild when her mom had passed, but wild in the Robin Hood sense.

  If they acted out and misbehaved, it was always in defense of someone being bullied, someone being put upon, or some other misdeed that needed righting. And now they were all respectable citizens with Declan being the ultimate tavern keeper, Kevin doing well with his acting career, and Danny gaining recognition as one of the best historians and tour guides in the city.