Shadow of Perception (6 page)

With an exasperated sigh, she opened a cupboard, then slid a mug across the counter. “I don’t have a stalker.”

He caught the mug, then poured himself a cup of coffee. “Mallory says you had a bunch of crank calls and text messages last month.” He leaned against the counter next to her. “They bothered you enough to turn to him.”

“They
bothered
me. They didn’t scare me. Plus, they weren’t the first I’ve ever received, and I doubt they’ll be the last.”

He supposed plenty of celebrities, local and otherwise, had their share of screwy fans, but he’d never considered Eden a celebrity. Maybe because she’d never acted like one, or at least his perception of one. Perception. There was that word again. He’d bring up what the doctor from the DVD had said about perfection and perception later, though. Right now, he wanted to discuss the leads on the possible stalker.
 

“Did Mallory find out who was making the calls and texts?”

She shook her head. “They came from two different cell phones. Both had been reported stolen. Then one day they just stopped.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Not much to tell,” she said, looked to the clock again, then fidgeted with what he figured was a heart rate monitor around her wrist. Man, she must be itching for that workout.
 

“There were only four voicemails. The voice was weird, kind of reminded me of Yoda, you know, from
Star Wars
. And the messages the old Jedi left were all pretty much the same. ‘You think you’re so pretty, but you’re not’ or ‘Chicago can’t wait for you to leave, I know I can’t’.” She shook her head. “Harmless really and the three texts were basically the same thing. Telling me I should leave town, do everyone a favor and never show my face on TV again.”

“Did you save the messages?”

“I just deleted them last week. There didn’t seem a point in saving them. They weren’t threatening and the last time he’d contacted me was almost four weeks ago.”

A knock came at the door. Probably Lloyd with the equipment he’d requested. When she moved to answer, he stopped her. “Look,” he began. “Until we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with, consider yourself in danger.”

“Really, Hudson. I think you’re being—”

“Careful.” He tucked a loose strand that had slipped from her ponytail behind her ear. “Just being careful.”

Eden kept her gaze on him as he walked to the door, and swore her skin still tingled from where his fingers had lingered. She pushed away the sudden, sharp longing and looked to the clock for the umpteenth time. Damn. She only had an hour before Bob showed, which meant she’d have no time to squeeze in a workout. It also meant she’d have to cut back her calorie intake today.
 

 
She put the water bottle back in the fridge, then poured a cup of coffee. The door slammed, followed by heavy footsteps. She’d know that walk anywhere. Hudson had a certain swagger, a walk that demanded respect and oozed confidence.
 

“I’m gonna get to work on your security system,” he called from the hallway. “Do you have another monitor anywhere else besides the front foyer?”

“Bedroom,” she answered, then cringed. “But I’m going to take a shower, so you’ll have to wait.”

He rounded the corner wearing a cocky grin. “Nothin’ I ain’t seen, but lock the bathroom door if you’re worried I can’t control myself.”

Without a word, because for once she couldn’t think of a snappy comeback, she took her mug and made her way to the bedroom. Fabio and Brutal were curled up on her bed together, sleeping. How she’d love to join them, and sleep through the day. She wasn’t ready to face Bob yet and she wasn’t sure how to handle the demand the man on the DVD had made. Even if the station manager, Rodger Jeffries, would let her use airtime to send the man a message, what would she say? And although the DVD held the utmost priority, she still had to finish the final episode of her series.

Then there was Hudson.

Climbing into the shower, she let the hot spray wash over her. But she couldn’t wash away the longing or the regret.

She’d stupidly fallen for Hudson, only he hadn’t been the man she’d thought…steady, worthy of her trust. He’d made her want to lose control and live up to her pseudonym. Risk her heart for something other than her lonely career.
 

Thank God she’d been too scared to admit that she’d cared about him. The blow he’d dealt to her heart and ego had been bad enough. The betrayal, the way he’d used her.

Fucking
used
her.
 

She’d do well to remember the anger, because just being near him now brought back too many other memories. The good times, the sexy times. God, she was such a hypocrite. The guilt, the regret. The way she’d taken advantage of his screw-up to end things fast and furious when deep down, she’d understood and had forgiven him.
 

A hard rap at the bathroom door had her shutting off the water.

“Just wanted to let you know I’ve already finished with your bedroom monitor,” Hudson said from the other side of the door. “And Mallory’ll be here in less than thirty.”

“Thanks.” She reached for the towel hanging over the stall and wrapped it around her body. After she heard the outer door click shut, she wiped steam from the mirror, then moved through the motions of fixing her hair and applying her make-up. All the while, her thoughts strayed to Hudson, to the lies between them. And of course...the DVD. The reason he’d blown back into her life.

Despite his “rules” she dressed in a suit, prepared to go into the station, talk with Jeffries about what had happened with Kyle and hopefully work on the final segment of her series. Of course, after Bob reviewed the DVD.
 

Her stomach flipped. She didn’t want to watch the DVD again and she wasn’t ready to face Bob yet. She’d hoped the next time they talked, that she’d be armed with information. Like who was Kyle Edwards’s source.
 

As she exited the bedroom, steam from the guest bathroom lingered in the hallway. A quick glance to the right, and she noticed a small suitcase sitting in the guest bedroom which actually held no bed, but served as her personal gym. She remembered Hudson mentioning last night that he’d been up since four in the morning and that he’d just spent a month in Detroit. He must have gone from the airport, to CORE, then straight to her place.
 

She closed the guestroom door, then moved down the hall. As she neared the living room, muffled screams echoed off the vaulted ceilings. Cold dread sprinted up her spine. Even without seeing it, she knew Hudson was watching the DVD. She’d never forget those sounds or the images that had come with them. Avoiding the TV, she glanced around the room and caught Hudson’s concerned gaze. When he jerked his head, she followed the motion then sucked in a breath.

“Bob, hi. I—”

“Turn that thing off,” he ordered Hudson, and the muffled screams abruptly stopped. He wiped a hand over his balding head, then released a deep sigh. “Not the way I wanted to start my morning. Especially after how I ended my night.”

She didn’t miss the irritation in his gaze when he glanced at her. “I told you I had no idea Edwards knew anything about the murders,” she said defensively. “I’m going to visit Jeffries when we’re through here and see if I can get information on Edwards’s source.”

He shook his head and offered her a sympathetic smile. “It won’t matter. I’ve been told—ordered, actually—to no longer speak with you or anyone from your station. Sorry, kiddo, you’ve been blackballed.” He blew out a deep breath. “I shouldn’t even be here right now.”

Reeling in her shock, she gripped the back of the couch. “Let me talk to your captain. Maybe if I explain…You know I’d never betray—”

“I knew that last night even when I was poppin’ off on you. Sorry about that by the way. I knew how things would end up going down and I was angry.” His expression somber, Bob pulled his keys from his pocket. “I know you had nothing to do with any of this, but Edwards revealed information that could compromise my case and he works with
you
. On top of that, he leaked the name of the victim before we even had a chance to notify her family. This has become a PR nightmare.” He moved toward the door. “I’ve gotta go.”

“What about the DVD? You obviously haven’t finished watching it. Did Hudson tell you what was on the rest?”

“He did, but you have no body. Hell, you don’t even know if this guy’s dead.” Thumbing toward the TV he looked to Hudson. “I can take a copy and have it checked, but I’m guessing you’ve already got someone at CORE working on it. Better equipment, too.”

“We do.”

“Well, if it turns out this thing isn’t a hoax, and you find a dead body, you know the drill.”

“A hoax,” she echoed with shock. “I can’t believe you’d even think…What about the two murdered nurses. Maybe there’s a connection between them and this.” She motioned to the darkened TV.

“We found evidence last night that would suggest otherwise.” Bob held up a hand. “And don’t even bother asking. I’m not supposed to be talking to you, remember?”

“I understand.” She rubbed the tension tightening the back of her neck. “If I find anything out about Edwards’s source, can I at least call you?”

“Have Hudson do it.
 
Maybe after things calm down...” Bob stared at her for a moment, then glanced at Hudson. “Keep her safe.”
 

The door quietly clicked shut, leaving her alone with Hudson again. “So I guess we’re on our own.” She moved toward the kitchen, furious with Kyle Edwards for screwing up her relationship with the Chicago PD. Before last night, she could have turned to Bob for help. Now she had to depend on Hudson.
 

“Hey,” Hudson murmured and snagged her hand. “At least you know Mallory isn’t holding anything against you.”

“Right. Just the rest of the CPD. And let’s not forget my station manager, either. He’s going to go ballistic when he finds out we’ve been blackballed.” She tightened her hold on his hand. Not only could Jeffries make her last month at WBDJ-TV a living hell, but more importantly, word of what had happened could reach Network and damage her upcoming contract.
 

When Hudson threaded their fingers together the rough texture of his hand against hers gave her what his touch had always done in the past. Comfort.

Until she met his gaze.
 

His eyes burned with deep concern, and her comfort morphed to something stronger, darker. Carnal. Scary.
 

He still cared.
 

Jerking free from him and the crazy thought, she tucked her hand in her pocket and moved past him.
 

 
“Eden,” he said, and reached for her. “I—”
 

His cell phone rang. Muttering a curse of some sort, he turned and answered the call. She stared at his broad back, the way his shoulders and arms filled out his black t-shirt. He ran a hand through his long hair, then held it bunched at the base of his neck. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll see you soon.”

When he turned, the concern that had darkened his eyes moments ago gave way to excitement. Forgetting about Bob, Jeffries and Network, she stepped forward and gripped his arm. “What is it?”

“We got ourselves a lead.”

*

Michael Morrison emerged from the century-old farmhouse for the first time in two days. His head ached. Hell, even his teeth ached. His stomach still churned with nausea, but he moved across the field anyway.
 

The cool wind didn’t help the hangover like he’d hoped. Instead, the morning air stung his sensitive skin and dry eyes, and the chills that had been running through him since he’d awakened only worsened with each step through the frost laden leaves.

The binge had been necessary, though. The bottles of booze—Wild Turkey, Evan Williams, Black Velvet—were used to forget. The blood, the yellow fatty tissue oozing from rubbery flesh. The screams.
 

Oh God, the screams.

With a shiver, he rested the varmint rifle against his leg, then reached inside his heavy Carhart coat. The rough material snagged against his chapped hand and drew blood from the cracks in his skin. Although he’d worn Latex gloves when he’d performed the
surgery
, he’d scrubbed his hands raw. No amount of soap or scalding water could seem to make him feel clean again.
 

He pulled the flask he’d filled before leaving the house and took a long swig.
 

After what he’d done to the doctor, he’d never be
clean
again.

But he’d started something. Something he’d planned for too many years to quit. Besides, he’d made a promise. To himself. To Eliza. Those men would pay and they would pay dearly, even if their payment shredded the last remnants of the man he’d once been...God fearing. Moral. Just.

Human.

The whiskey burned his throat, but soothed his queasy stomach. Although tempted to drain the flask, he shoved it back inside his coat. He had work to do.
 

Picking up the varmint rifle, he continued deeper into the one hundred and forty acre property. He paused fifteen minutes later to regain his bearings, then moved northwest. Seventy-five steps would take him to where he’d dumped Dr. Thomas Elliot’s body two nights ago.